

SECRET 
SCARED ACRE 


M.JACQUELINE' 

GILMORE I 

( 






















































































THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 














Joan clutched Mary Alice.—P ar/c 224 












/ 

THE SECRET 

OF 

SCARED ACRES 


BY 

M. JACQUELINE GILMORE / 


/ 

Illustrated by 
JEAN ARMINGTQN 




BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 


c-a f >-1 






Copyright, 1927, 


By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. ^ 
All rights reserved 


The Secret of Scared Acres 


Printed in U. S. A. 

• . 

iWorweod prcea 

BERWICK & SMITH CO. 


Norwood, Mass. 



©Clftl004243 



To 

My Mother and Father 








CONTENTS 


I. 

Scared Acres. 

11 

II. 

The Makin’s of a Ghost ” 

24 

III. 

May King. 

33 

IV. 

The Closed Door .... 

47 

V. 

A Rusty Nail and a Dozen Eggs 

60 

VI. 

The Man in the Mill . 

73 

VII. 

We All Wear White ” 

86 

VIII. 

The Chippendale Desk 

99 

IX. 

The White-Satin Girl . 

114 

X. 

CoNSUELo May of Santiago, 



Chile. 

126 

XI. 

Uncle Ben is Emphatic 

136 

XII. 

The Library Visitor 

150 

XIII. 

On the Back Stairs 

164 

XIV. 

‘‘ To-night at Twelve ” . 

179 

XV. 

The Closed Door Opens 

192 

XVI. 

Uncle Ben Thinks Twice . 

204 

XVII. 

Pickles Plays a Part . 

217 

XVIII. 

The Silver Box. 

232 

XIX. 

Joan Chooses a White Dress . 

245 

XX. 

The Silver Box Disappears . 

257 

XXI. 

The Letter. 

267 

XXII. 

The Silver Box is Found . 

278 

XXIII. 

The Last of the Man in the 



Mill . . '. 

297 

XXIV. 

“ My Auntie May ” . 

7 

317 





ILLUSTRATIONS 

Joan clutched Mary Alice (Page 

224). Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

Mary Alice leaned forward hastily . • 102 

The innocent little pink-and-white room 

was in a woful state . . . .276 

She saw that the small window was open, 
and that a rope tied to the bed hung 
out of it.304 


9 


1 



t ^ 


! 


V' 

> ' V 

•I ■ 

I 




■■ V 




'> ^ 



0 


J 




THE SECRET 
OF SCARED ACRES 


CHAPTER I 

SCARED ACRES 

It was a happy Joan Kellogg that came in from 
the Adirondack camp one summer afternoon. As 
she reached New York City and took the sub¬ 
way shuttle-train, she was utterly oblivious of the 
crowds that pushed and jostled in their continu¬ 
ous rush. She was also oblivious of the fact that 
many of the hurrying thousands paused a second 
to look at her radiant face, with its fluffy golden 
bob of hair and its care-free blue eyes and frankly 
smiling lips. 

For Joan was living in a little world of her own, 
a completely perfect little world. And isnT it 
enough to make any sixteen-year-old girl happy 
to have her chums choose her for their next year’s 
class president? That was what had happened 
to Joan when her particular little group of girls 
had spent the week-end at the mountain-camp of 

one of the number. Not, of course, that that 

11 


12 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

meant Joan was sure to be president, but the 
entire group of girls was going to Mrs. Haddon’s 
School in Tarry town, just north of New York 
City. Mrs. Haddon^s was a small school, and 
Joan’s chums would undoubtedly compose half 
of the freshman class. The others would be girls 
from different parts of New York State, and 
from scattered cities throughout the country,— 
an entirely unorganized group,—so Joan was 
confident that she would be president of her class. 

She continued to smile as she caught the west- 
side subway at Times Square, and was still smil¬ 
ing as she got off at the Columbia University sta¬ 
tion and walked over to Riverside Drive. 

The closer she got to her home, the faster she 
walked, and when she finally turned into the 
apartment house she was fairly running. Then 
came a few tantalizing moments when she had to 
stop, put down her traveling-case, and hunt 
around in her purse for her door-key. 

Finally she opened the door and jumped in 
with a great bounce, her lips framing the little 
whistle that was just for her mother. But the 
cheery signal died away in amazed silence as she 
saw her father. Barely three o’clock, and her 
father home from work! Despite the sun glaring 


SCARED ACRES 


13 


through the front windows, she glanced at her 
wrist-watch, half expecting the tiny gold hands to 
have moved up to six, so accustomed was she to 
her father^s regular hours. 

“ Your mother wants you, Joan. She is in her 
room.’^ 

Mr. Kellogg spoke without glancing up from 
the litter of papers that covered his wife’s dainty 
mahogany desk until only four dark legs showed 
under a sheaf of white. Joan’s bewilderment 
grew at the abrupt dismissal. (Of course, her 
father was always abrupt, but it was not like him 
to let her come home from a three-day absence 
without any greeting. With a hurt feeling Joan 
turned away, and walked silently down the hall 
and knocked at her mother’s door. 

Is it you, Joan? ” her mother’s voice called. 
“ Come in, dear.” 

Joan opened the door, and was more bewildered 
than before. The window-blinds were drawn, but 
she could see that her mother’s pretty lavender- 
and-green bedroom was a stack of dresses and 
shoes and hats. 

“Why, Mother! ” she gasped, her eyes finally 
resting on a yawning wardrobe-trunk by the dress¬ 
ing-table. 


14 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


“ Come on in, Joan, and close the door. My 
room is quite—quite a mess, isn’t it? ” Mrs. 
Kellogg’s laugh was not natural, and Joan thought 
she saw tears in her eyes, but the room was 
shadowy and she could not be sure. She waited 
for her mother to continue, but Mrs. Kellogg 
was silent. Joan had to speak. 

Somebody’s going somewhere,” she asserted 
blankly. 

^‘Yes, three somebodies! In fact, the whole 
Kellogg family is going to travel! ” 

‘‘What are you talking about?” Joan cried. 
“ I—I don’t understand at all! ” 

“ I know that you don’t, Joan. And I wish you 
would read this letter, first. It will help me to 
explain.” Mrs. Kellogg took a letter from the 
top of her dressing-table and slowly handed it to 
Joan. 

Gingerly Joan took the small white envelope, 
and, reluctant to open it, looked long at the out¬ 
side. The address read “ Mrs. Lily Kellogg,” and 
seemed strange to her, because she was accus¬ 
tomed to “ Mrs. R. V. Kellogg ” on her mother’s 
letters. Then, too, it was postmarked “ Fame, 
Kansas.” But her mother was waiting for her to 
open it, so she drew out the single sheet and read: 


SCARED ACRES 


15 


Dear Lily: 

I am very sorry to hear of Mr. Kellogg's ill 
health, but I feel confident that the trip will do 
him a great deal of good, and while he is getting 
well you can enjoy Europe. 

I am alone here at Scared Acres, and the pros¬ 
pect of having Joan stay with me is delightful. 
I had always hoped that some day you could visit 
me, and having Joan will be the next best thing 
to having your own dear self. 

You write that you are not planning to be back 
before the first of the year. I wonder why you 
do not arrange to have Joan enter the small col¬ 
lege at Fame the first semester. I imagine fresh¬ 
man college work is much the same anywhere, and 
she can go right along with her class at Mrs. 
Haddon's School the second semester. At least, 
she will be kept busy and interested, and won't 
get too lonesome. 

Let me know when she is coming, and I will 
meet her in Fame, for Scared Acres is about 
twenty miles from the town. And I cannot tell 
you how happy I am that in your difficulties you 
turned to me, and the small assistance I can give 
you is going to be all pleasure for me. 

May King. 

Scared Acres—college in Fame—Europe—ill 
health—ran through Joan's head in a jumble. 

^‘Mother, what has happened? What does 
this strange letter mean? " she stammered. 

First of all, it means a vacation for your 
father," her mother answered slowly, as if she 




16 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

were carefully choosing her words: You know, 

Joan, how he has put all our money into this new 
magazine, and how hard he has worked for three 
years to build up the circulation department. He 
hasn’t spared himself a minute, and would not 
allow anything to be done without his supervision. 
He must have worried a lot, too, Joan, although 
he hasn’t let us know it.” Mrs. Kellogg’s voice 
was trembling a little, and Joan felt her own 
throat tighten. And now—well, the doctor 
says that it is overwork, and that a long trip 
abroad, with the ocean voyage and change of 
scene, is absolutely necessary.” 

“ You are going all the way to Europe? ” Joan 
gasped fearfully. “ Is Daddy so very bad, then? ” 
“ No, dear,” her mother quickly reassured her. 
Don’t be frightened. But we have to get your 
father a long distance from his work, or he will 
sneak back to it when we aren’t looking. You 
remember last year when we went up on Lake 
Champlain how he was constantly coming down 
to New York and sending telegrams and writing 
letters and worrying all the time? ” 

‘‘Yes, and I remember that cross old stenog¬ 
rapher he took with him.” 

“ Instead of the cross stenographer I am to go,” 


SCARED ACRES 17 

Mrs. Kellogg replied, with a smile. He is able to 
go alone, but the doctor is afraid that he will fret 
about the office. In fact, he said that your daddy 
is one of those unfortunate men who never have 
learned how to play.’' Joan’s mother faltered a 
little over those words, but she went on hastily: 

I’m to make him lie on his back in the sunshine 
and take long walks and riot in laziness for six 
months. Then I’ll bring you back a new daddy, 
as strong and well as ever.” 

Six months! Joan thought again of the letter. 

‘‘ And—and I’m to go to Kansas and stay with 
this May King that I never heard of? ” Joan 
wanted to be as brave as her mother, and when 
a tear splattered on the letter she was still clutch¬ 
ing in her hand, she got up hastily and slipped 
down on the floor beside her mother, to conceal 
her face. 

Yes, dear. You are to go to Kansas and stay 
with May King, and I’m going to tell you about 
her now. She was a college friend of mine— 
probably the dearest friend I shall ever have. 
She came to New York many years ago, a re¬ 
served, much older girl, to attend Mrs. Haddon’s 
School. At that time the head of the school had 
a very adroit way of putting the gay girls with 


18 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


the staid ones, and the slow ones with the bril¬ 
liant ; so, since I was a lively youngster slated for 
freshman-class president. May was put with 
me- 

“You were freshman-class president?’^ Joan 
interrupted eagerly. 

“ I was president of my class for four years,^^ 
her mother answered calmly. 

“ Oh-h-h,” breathed Joan; “ oh-h-h, I’m so 
proud of you. Mother.” Then she became very 
quiet and still at her mother’s feet. She couldn’t 
be class president at Mrs. Haddon’s if she were 
away out in Kansas- 

Mrs. Kellogg smiled tenderly at her daughter’s 
praise, and then, sensing that something was 
wrong, she reached down and took her hand while 
she continued: 

“ So May and I were roommates, and became 
the best of friends. She spent all of the winter 
vacations at my home, but despite our friendship 
I never knew much about her family, for May was 
very reserved. I learned, though, that her father 
—she had only a father, and he was a morose, 
silent man on the one occasion he visited the 
school —WSLS a wealthy cattleman in Kansas. 

“ But one year—I am going to tell you the 




SCARED ACRES 19 

whole story, Joan—he had a lot of reverses. 
Everything came at once, it seemed. At least, I 
remember something about a heavy investment 
in Texas cattle, a drought ruining his corn and 
pastures, and then a drop in the cattle-market 
when he sold. Anyway, when the second semes¬ 
ter approached, all his money was tied up in a new 
lot of cattle, and he found that he couldnT pay 
May’s tuition. He sent for her to come home. 
That was her senior year, and she was expected to 
be valedictorian of the class, and in several ways 
it seemed a shame for her to leave; so my father 
paid the tuition. Of course Mr. King paid the 
money back the next season, and the favor was 
really only a kindness; but May was proud, and 
she always begged for a chance to do something 
in return.” 

What became of her afterward? ” Joan ques¬ 
tioned, forgetting for a minute her own woes in 
her interest in the brief drama of May King’s 
school days at the same institution she was to at¬ 
tend. 

She went back to Kansas immediately and 
managed her father’s house, and then, when he 
died, took charge of the ranch itself. We didn’t 
write often,—somehow May wasn’t the sort of 


20 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


• person who writes letters,—but I’m sure that both 
of us have always felt that our friendship is just 
as strong as ever. Now, when I have no relatives, 
and my New York friends haven’t room in their 
apartments for a big girl for six months, I feel that 
I can turn to May King for help,” Mrs. Kellogg 
finished quietly. 

And I’m to go out there alone? ” Joan cried. 
She had never been west of Philadelphia, and 
Europe seemed much closer to New York than 
Kansas. 

“ Yes, dear. But you are a grown-up girl now, 
and you know how to travel. And it will be fun, 
too; think of all the interesting things you will 
see along the way.” Mrs. Kellogg’s voice was 
wistful, but Joan was so unhappy just then that 
she did not realize that her mother was unhappy 
too. 

But, Mother,” she went on, her eyes on the 
letter, May King lives twenty miles from a 
town, and on a ranch named Scared Acres! 
Scared Acres—what a horrible name! ” Joan 
paused in wonder. Why would any one name a 
ranch ‘ Scared Acres ’? Do you know, Mother? ” 

Why—no,” Mrs. Kellogg said. It never 
occurred to me before that the name is peculiar. 


SCARED ACRES 


21 


I have always heard it called Scared Acres, and 
the name was so familiar to me that I never 
thought about it/^ 

It seems to me that somebody took a lot of 
pains to be disagreeable,’^ Joan talked on, for she 
was dreadfully afraid that if she stopped talking 
she would cry. Why couldn’t it have been 
called Sunny Acres, or Pleasant Meadows, or 
Pretty Hills? ” 

“ Those names do sound more cheerful,” Mrs. 
Kellogg laughed. But Scared Acres is more in¬ 
teresting. And it will be fun to find out where 
the ranch got its name.” 

Yes, it will be fun, but not so much fun as— 

as- Oh, Mother, why can’t I just stay there 

until school begins and then come back to Mrs. 
Haddon’s? Somebody will be sure to invite me 
for Thanksgiving and Christmas vacations, just 
as you invited May King.” 

I only wish it could be done that way, dear.” 
Mrs. Kellogg’s hand caressed Joan’s hair, as if she 
were trying to ease her words. But Mrs. Had¬ 
don’s is a very expensive school—it means not 
only tuition, but nice clothes, an allowance for 
tickets for both opera and theater, riding-lessons, 
and many things. What hurts me so much is 



22 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


that your father and I have to spend on this trip 
the money that was laid aside for your college 
expenses/^ 

Suddenly Joan realized that she had been very 
selfishly thinking of herself, and that, by com¬ 
plaining, she was adding to her mother’s trouble. 
When she saw a little crystal tear steal through 
her mother’s lashes before Mrs. Kellogg could 
brush it away, she braced up and tried to hide her 
unhappiness at the thought that all the joyous 
plans her friends were making would go on with¬ 
out her. But her mother must have understood, 
for she put her arms around Joan and whispered: 

You and I have to be brave, Joan. Your father 
is very unhappy because he can’t send you to 
school this winter, and we must not worry him by 
letting him see that we are very much dis¬ 
appointed.” 

So Joan kept up her courage through the long 
afternoon and evening while she helped her 
mother sort out her wardrobe into three piles: 
one to be cleaned or mended or washed; one to be 
thrown away; and one to be stored, for the Kel¬ 
loggs were giving up their apartment and storing 
their furniture. It seemed to Joan, as she laid 
out serge and flannel dresses to take to Kansas 


SCARED ACRES 23 

with her, that she was to be gone for a long, long 
time. 

Finally night came, and she found herself in 
her little room in the midst of the confusion of 
packing. It was harder when she was alone, and 
she crawled wearily into bed, repeating sternly to 
herself: “Joan Kellogg, don’t you dare cry. 
You’re doing this for your daddy, your poor sick 
daddy.” 

But in spite of her resolution, one or two salty 
tears crawled down her cheeks before fatigue 
caught her and sent her to sleep, to dream that a 
huge herd of cattle was chasing the ranch—which, 
strangely enough, was a girl just like Joan— 
around and around until she—or was it the ranch? 
—was so scared that she could run no farther. 


CHAPTER II 


THE MAKINGS OF A GHOST 

A WEEK later Joan was on the train. The days 
had been so filled with the preparations for the 
two journeys that she had not had time to think 
of her own trip. And now, after she had said 
good-by to her mother and father in the Grand 
Central Station, she did not have much more time 
to think about it, for there were so many things 
to see on the way. There were cities and States 
passing by that she had read and studied about, 
and there were lovely glimpses of the Great Lakes 
and hasty views of farmhouses and men doing the 
chores. Then, too, she never wearied of watching 
the people on the Pullman. No girls of her age 
were on the car, but there were several adorable 
children who came back to her section and 
brought their toys, and several nice old ladies who 
shared their magazines and boxes of candy with 
her. 

But by the time she had changed to the last 
train, the one leaving Kansas City for Fame, she 

was very, very tired and dirty. It was late after- 

24 


“ THE MARIN’S OF A GHOST ” 


25 


noon when she left Kansas City, and, listless and 
weary, she leaned her head against the towelled 
back of the Pullman seat and stared dismally from 
the window. 

That^s the Kaw, or Kansas, River,’’ the man 
in front of her was explaining to his neighbor. 

She watched the broad shallow stream meander 
its muddy way along the tracks. She watched it 
and wished that it were the placid Hudson, and 
that the clumps of willows were the beautiful 
Catskill Mountains. And how she wished that 
her visit was over, and that her train was slowly 
approaching the Grand Central Station, where 
her mother and father were waiting to meet 
her- 

“ Fame,” bawled the porter from the Pullman 
door. He picked up Joan’s bag and disappeared 
with it, and Joan hastily put on her hat and 
gloves and followed him out. 

It was nearly dusk when she stumbled off the 
train, still half asleep, and there was no friendly 
red-cap to grab her bag and say, ‘‘Follow me, 
Miss,” as there had been at Chicago and Kansas 
City. In fact, there wasn’t any one at all. She 
had been the last person off the car, and while she 
stood there staring regretfully at the train dis- 



26 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

appearing into the sunset, the other people had 
scurried away with all the agility of the White 
Rabbit of Aliceas adventures. 

Joan and her bag were alone on that long, 
narrow platform. She gave a great gulp and 
wished frantically that she had not left the train, 

but had just gone on and on and on- Then 

she shook her head to drive away the sleepiness, 
and tried to think. She was big enough to take 
care of herself; her mother had said so. She 
mustn’t cry the first minute something went 
wrong. 

Maybe she had got off at the wrong place; but 
no, there were the letters, F-A-M-E, painted on 
the side of the station. Maybe, then, they didn’t 
let the people come down close to the trains. 
Still there were no chains or bars to keep them 
away, but maybe, Joan thought hysterically, 
people were more polite and better-behaved in 
Kansas, and if they weren’t supposed to crowd 
around the trains, they didn’t have to be shut out 
with guards and iron bars! 

Just then she saw a loaded baggage-wagon mov¬ 
ing down the platform. And there, perilously 
balanced on the very tip-top, was her trunk. It 
was the only friendly thing she had seen, and she 



THE MAKINGS OF A GHOST 


27 


decided to follow it. But her traveling-bag was 
heavy, and when she was half-way across the plat¬ 
form the wagon disappeared into the baggage- 
‘ room. She struggled on, though, the heavy bag 
rubbing against her legs at every step, and by the 
time she reached the baggage-room a man was 
locking the doors. 

My trunk,” she began; but her voice was only 
a whisper, because she was out of breath, and be¬ 
cause she was beginning to be a little frightened 
by the loneliness of the place. 

The bulky man in faded overalls carefully drew 
a long key from the door before he looked around. 

“ What did you say? ” he asked. 

My trunk,” Joan repeated, and this time her 
voice was clear, because the man looked friendly, 
and as if he wouldn’t object to helping a lost girl. 

“ Your trunk? You want to take it this even¬ 
ing? ” 

“ Why,” said Joan vaguely, “ I’m not sure. 
You see,” she confided frankly, I don’t know 
whether or not I have any place to take it.” 

Well, you’ll have to make up your mind 
quick,” he answered. I want to lock up the sta¬ 
tion and get home to supper.” 

Lock up? Lock up the station?” Joan 


28 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

gasped, forgetting everything for a moment in the 
face of the idea that a railroad-station was ever 
locked up. 

Sure,’^ the man chuckled at her surprised face. 

Why not? That was the last train that stops 
here to-night. You weren’t expecting to sleep in 
the depot, were you? ” 

‘‘ I—I might have to,” Joan stammered. No 
one met me, and I don’t know what to do.” 

Say, now, I bet you are the little girl for 
Scared Acres? ” 

Oh, I am! ” Joan cried hastily. How do I 
get there, please? I expected Miss King to meet 
me.” 

Judd is going to drive you out,” he stated, 
idly scratching his chin. Miss King called him 
about an hour ago and said that she couldn’t get 
her car started, and told him to bring you.” 

‘‘ That’s too bad—I mean about Miss King’s 
car,” Joan ventured, after waiting for the man to 
continue. “ Where do I find Judd? ” 

Haven’t you seen him? ” he asked. Well, 
now, that’s funny. He was around here a while 
ago.” 

What does he look like? ” Joan finally asked, 
when the man seemed inclined to lean against the 


THE MAKINGS OF A GHOST 29 

baggage-room door without moving. “ I’ll go 
and hunt him.” 

Haven’t you seen him? ” The man seemed 
suddenly to understand the situation. Oh, you 
haven’t seen him! Well now, I bet I know 
exactly where he is—asleep on my cot. It takes 
more than a train to wake Judd when he gets 
settled for a nap.” He got out his long key and 
opened the doors. I’ll get him for you. He 
might as well take your trunk, too; it’ll go in the 
back seat of the Ford easy enough.” 

Several minutes later the baggage-master re¬ 
turned with a man who, since he was yawning, 
Joan decided was Judd. After an altercation over 
the advisability of taking the trunk,—Judd pro¬ 
testing that Miss King had told him to bring a 
girl, and not a girl and a trunk, and the baggage¬ 
man insisting that he might as well take the 
trunk,—Judd settled the argument by walking 
away towards a decrepit car without the trunk. 

Joan followed him, sensing that he expected 
her to, and Judd motioned her into the front seat. 
Then he cranked the car, crawled over the door on 
his side, settled down with a sigh, and they were 
off, bumping over rough roads and leaving a trail 
of noise behind. Judd yawned slowly and luxu- 


30 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


riously now and then, but never said a word after 
inquiring perfunctorily, Train on time? as if he 
really suspected it of coming in an hour early. 

Twenty miles of dirt roads in a rattly car should 
have kept Joan awake, but she was so tired that 
she half dozed all the time. Finally she realized 
that Judd had stopped the car, and woke up to 
see him opening the gate of a lane. 

That^s it—Scared Acres,’^ Judd confided, 
crawling back into the car, but leaving one leg 
dangling outside in anticipation of stopping again 
in a few minutes. 

They drove slowly down the lane, and Joan 
eagerly watched the house loom up at the end of 
the road. She could discern the outlines of a 
square box-like structure, with a lighted window 
on the second floor, and a faint glow shining 
through the open front door. In the twilight it 
looked gray and mournful and unfriendly. Even 
Judd’s presence seemed cheerful by contrast, and 
Joan spoke to him. 

Ugh-h, it looks as gloomy as the House of 
Usher.” She shivered as they drove up the lane 
between overhanging trees. 

“ Huh?” 

Judd, Joan guessed, had never heard of Edgar 


THE MAKINGS OF A GHOST ” 


31 


Allen Poe or his short stories. Poe was, right 
then, Joan’s favorite author, and she felt lonelier 
than ever as she wondered if any one out here 
had ever heard of him. Then she lectured herself 
mentally for feeling superior, and reminded her¬ 
self that a New York taxi-driver would probably 
have asked what street the House of Usher was 
on; so she explained. 

The House of Usher was gloomy and ghost- 
haunted. This place looks gloomy. Has it any 
ghosts? ” 

Judd chuckled slowly and appreciatively. 
“ Ghosts in Kansas? Well, hardly.” He sur¬ 
veyed the house thoughtfully, and then added, 

That is, not exactly.” 

With a groan the car stopped in front of the 
door. 

^‘Not exactly! What do you mean?” Joan 
cried in amazement. 

Judd was out of the car by that time and was 
getting her bag out of the back seat, so she had to 
squirm around to hear his answer. 

Well, ghosts are things that come after deaths 
and disappearances, aren’t they? ” 

“ Why, I guess so,” Joan began bewildered. 

Of course they just come after deaths and dis- 


32 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


appearances/^ Judd reiterated with a chuckle. 

You never heard of a ghost of a living person, 
did you? ” 

Why, no,’’ Joan laughed. But of course we 
know that ghosts don’t exist, anyway.” 

“ Maybe not,” Judd admitted reluctantly, evi¬ 
dently clinging to the idea of the supernatural. 

Still, I don’t understand what you meant 
when you said ‘ Not exactly,’ ” Joan persisted. 

‘^Well, I said ^Not exactly,’ because this here 
place has only the makings of a ghost” 

‘‘What do you mean by that?” Joan began 
again, when she was interrupted by a quiet voice 
at her side. 

“Joan Kellogg, my dear, I welcome you to 
Scared Acres.” 


CHAPTER III 


MAY KING 

Hastily Joan turned around, not waiting for 
Judd’s answer. In the light that now streamed 
from the open door, she saw a tall figure standing 
by the side of the car. Joan’s first impression of 
May King came from her thin proud face, and 
she almost shivered in the warmth of the even¬ 
ing. Without realizing it, she had formed a 
mental picture of Miss King from her mother’s 
story of her, and unconsciously she had been ex¬ 
pecting a big, hearty woman with a deep mascu¬ 
line voice and a bluff good nature; a woman with 
a face tanned by the outdoor life, with twinkling 
sympathetic eyes and a jovial smile. But Miss 
King, as she stood erect by the car, was pale and 
her eyes were haughty. Her gray hair was drawn 
severely back from her forehead, and the slender 
gold chain from her glasses was fastened in the 
smooth waves. Her dress, of a dark-gray cotton 
material, was plain and straight, with stiff white 
collars and cuffs. 

She was smiling kindly at Joan, though, as she 

33 


34 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

stood beside the car, but Joan could find no words 
to answer her greeting, for she was lonesome and 
blue, and, oh, so tired of taking care of herself. 
She wanted some one to slip a motherly arm 
around her and let her cry a little on a comfort¬ 
able shoulder. 

Finally, after what seemed to Joan a long 
silence, she realized that Miss King was waiting 
for her to answer her greeting, and she managed 
to begin: I’m glad to meet you. Miss King. 
Mother has told me so much about you that I feel 

as if I am already half acquainted. I—I-” 

She stopped abruptly, realizing that her voice was 
beginning to tremble and her eyes were filling 
with tears of disappointment. 

Ah, ha! A real genus homo; species, New 
Yorker! And we have captured it, haven’t we. 
Miss King? Does it look any different from us 
ordinary mortals? ” 

A welcome interruption to Joan—this voice 
from the doorway of the house, and she blinked 
the tears from her eyes and glanced up. A girl 
about her own age was standing on the porch. 
She was plump and sturdy, and looked attractive 
and comfortable in a tan-linen dress and trim 
brown oxfords. Her black bobbed hair curled 



MAY KING 35 

saucily on the ends and framed a face that was 
smiling broadly. 

“With the aid of Judd we have captured the 
specimen/^ agreed Miss King, the girhs infectious 
laugh bringing a smile to her face. “ But it is a 
tired, worn specimen, I’m afraid.” 

“ Unpack it carefully! ” The girl spoke again 
in her cheerful voice and ran down the steps and 
opened the door of the Ford. Then all at once 
Joan found herself out of the car, her bag beside 
her, and Judd rattling out of sight. 

“ This is Mary Alice Donahue, Joan,” Miss 
King was saying as the two girls faced each 
other. “ She will take you to your room up-stairs 
and you can brush up a little while I tell Mrs. 
Oldham to serve supper.” 

Mary Alice grabbed Joan’s bag and Joan’s arm 
and led the way into the house. Joan had only 
a glimpse of an old-fashioned hall with a grand¬ 
father clock and a high-boy before they started up 
the stairway. 

“ 0 dear! ” Mary Alice sighed an enormous 
sigh. “ To think that you have ridden in a sub¬ 
way! ” 

“0 dear! ” Joan mimicked, knowing that she 
was going to like this gay girl. “To think that 


36 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


you have ridden a horse, or maybe even a tame 
cow! ” 

But you have seen the Woolworth Tower, and 
maybe have even climbed the Statue of Liberty,’’ 
Mary Alice insisted, as they reached the top of the 
stairs and she led the way down a high, narrow 
hall. 

“ And you have climbed a haystack, and slid 
down, to the grief of your dress,” Joan rejoined. 

Mary Alice chuckled, gave Joan’s hand a 
friendly little squeeze, threw open the door of a 
room, and said with a low bow, This is your 
Kansas room! ” 

With a little gasp of wonder Joan stepped into 
a quaint room that seemed to belong to another 
generation and another time. The furniture was 
a dull, pleasant brown from years of use, and very 
old-fashioned. The bed was so high that Joan 
almost wondered how she could clamber into it, 
and as she laid her purse on the dresser she saw 
that it had a marble top. Everywhere were soft 
chintz pillows, and the wall-paper had tiny pink 
rosebuds bunched awkwardly in an “ all-over ” 
pattern. Pink-and-white rag rugs lay on the 
floor by the bed and in front of the dresser. 
Joan’s shiny traveling-bag seemed almost an in- 


MAY KING 


37 


truding note in the midst of this quaint room, and 
in place of Mary Alice and her tailored dress there 
should have been a girl in full skirts and pan¬ 
talettes. 

Isn’t it a dear old room? ” Mary Alice queried. 

It’s so prim and yet friendly. Wouldn’t it be 
fun if it could talk to us, and tell us about all the 
young girls it has known? But do take off your 
hat and wash your hands and comb your hair— 
all in about five minutes. I think Mrs. Oldham— 
she’s the housekeeper—is apt to be peevish if 
every one isn’t ready when she is.” 

Are you a stranger here, too? ” Joan asked, as 
she searched her traveling-bag for a comb. 

I just came out from Fame this afternoon,” 
Mary Alice replied. 

Do you live in Fame? ” 

Oh, no, not really. My home is in southern 
Kansas, but I’m spending the summer in Fame, 
cramming for the entrance exams to Fame Col¬ 
lege, while Dad and Mother are vacationing in 
Colorado. 

I looked around a little as I came .out here,” 
she continued, perching on the edge of the bed. 

I saw an old horse in a pasture, and I’m sure 
he’s big enough and tame enough to carry double. 


38 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

And then there^s a flat, green place on the south 
side of the house that will make a tennis-court, 
only we’ll have to knock easy balls, because we 
sha’n’t have any back-stops.” 

But I haven’t any racket with me,” Joan an¬ 
nounced regretfully, struggling to get her light 
hair to look soft and fluffy, despite the fact that 
it was full of train-grit and cinders. 

I brought two rackets and an old net with me, 
because Miss King asked me to stay several weeks 
so that you wouldn’t be lonesome at flrst,” Mary 
Alice answered, and then continued, How I love 
your blonde hair and blue eyes and slenderness.” 

“ And don’t forget,” Joan laughed, that if I 
lose a single pound. I’ll be skinny, and that my 
nose is pug, and I am too short to play basket¬ 
ball! ” 

Are you ready, girls? ” interrupted Miss King 
from the doorway, and the girls followed her down 
the long stairs to the dining-room. 

The dining-room was dark and gloomy, with 
heavy furniture. But Miss King suggested that 
they light the candles in the silver candelabra and 
turn out the electric lights. In the yellow candle¬ 
light the white linen gleamed softly, and the 
comers of the room were lost in pleasant shadows-. 


MAY KING 


39 


As the three sat down at the table Mary Alice 
sniffed the good odors that were floating around 
the room. 

‘^0 dear! ” she groaned; ‘M’m dieting.’^ 

“ Well,” Miss King suggested, “ here is a lettuce 
salad and some fruit, and you might have a muf- 
fln with a small, very small, piece of butter. 
Then if you go without dessert, you will not have 
too many calories.” 

Oh, Miss King,” said Mary Alice reproach¬ 
fully, you canT expect me to do that when I can 
smell country sausages, see pale-gold honey, and 
have a distant view of a huge lemon cake on the 
sideboard? ” 

Just then Mrs. Oldham came in with a plate of 
muffins and sat down at the table. After saying, 
I’m glad to meet you ” to Joan, she was quiet 
during the rest of the meal. She was a dumpy 
little woman, with masses of brown-gray hair 
which kept sliding from one side of her head to 
the other, and every time a strand came loose she 
would take a long hairpin from a pocket in her 
apron and stab it into the knot. Finally, when 
the sixth hairpin had been flxed in the wobbly 
mass of hair, Joan heard Mary Alice choke and 
reach hastily for a glass of water, and she began 


40 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

to feel like giggling, so she avoided looking at Mrs. 
Oldham any more. 

Supper was a rather quiet affair, and by the 
time it was over the clock had struck nine. The 
fatigue of her trip and the warm food made Joan 
very drowsy, and her eyelids kept creeping down 
and down until she would have to jerk them open. 
Miss King noticed her and said, “ Mary Alice, 
Joan is so tired that she is nearly asleep. And 
you must be tired yourself, considering all the 
steps you have made up and down and around 
and about this afternoon. I will get up early in 
the morning and go to town after Joan’s trunk, 
but you girls can sleep as late as you wish, and 
then Mrs. Oldham will give you your breakfast.” 

Joan heard an indignant clatter of dishes behind 
her as Miss King finished, and judged that Mrs. 
Oldham did not particularly approve of the idea, 
but Miss King continued: Here’s a basket of 
fruit for you to have in your room. And, Joan, I 
hope you sleep well and feel that you are going 
to like being here.” 

“ Thank you. Miss King. It is so very kind of 
you to let me come. I feel sure that I am going 
to like it, and—and you, too,” Joan added rather 
hesitantly. She wanted Miss King to like her, 


MAY KING 41 

and she felt the need of the older woman^s sym¬ 
pathy and help, now that her own mother was so 
far away. 

Yes, yes,^^ Miss King answered, but her voice 
was chilly, and Joan felt that her offer of friend¬ 
ship had been rejected. 

Hurt and bewildered, she took the basket of 
fruit from Miss King, and, after the good nights 
were said, followed Mary Alice into the kitchen. 

Let^s go up the back stairway,^^ Mary Alice 
suggested. I hate deserted front halls at night, 
don’t you?” 

Yes,” Joan answered, but she was hardly con¬ 
scious of what she said, for she was still hearing 
Miss King’s cold words. 

- They said good night to Mrs. Oldham, but she 
was disappearing into the pantry and did not 
answer. Then Mary Alice opened the stair-door 
and they climbed the steep steps to their rooms. 
Joan noticed that hers was directly over the 
kitchen, and Mary Alice’s, opening out of it, was 
probably over part of the dining-room. 

Mary Alice disappeared into her own room for 
a minute, and returned with her hair-brush and 
perched cross-legged on Joan’s bed. 

My wall-paper has blue bow-knots instead of 


42 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

pink rosebuds/’ she confided, while she brushed 
her hair vigorously. “ But I don’t have a cun¬ 
ning little table with knobby legs, as you have.” 

Joan unpacked her bag, hanging up her extra 
frock and putting her handkerchiefs and toilet- 
articles in the dresser. Then she slipped on the 
dark-blue negligee her mother had bought for her 
to wear on the Pullman. Mary Alice was chat¬ 
ting on steadily, but Joan was so sleepy that she 
hardly heard her, and only said “ Yes ” and No ” 
occasionally. 

When Joan was ready for bed Mary Alice 
tucked her in, in spite of protests, and turned out 
the lights. Then she went into her own room, 
leaving the door ajar between. 

Joan curled down luxuriously between the cool 
sheets and expected to go to sleep immediately. 
But she didn’t. She was nervous and excited 
from the happenings of the day, and kept getting 
more wide-awake all the time. She heard Mary 
Alice punch out her light, make a flying leap for 
the bed, and turn over two or three times; then 
everything was fearfully quiet. Joan longed for 
the cheerful, friendly noises of New York. In her 
tiny room there she always went to sleep listening 
drowsily to the roar of the busses and motors on 


MAY KING 43 

Riverside Drive. Or sometimes the metallic 
voice of the radio in the next apartment would be 
the last thing she would hear. And less fre¬ 
quently, when the river was foggy, the constant 
moan of the fog-horns on the boats passing up or 
down the Hudson would penetrate her sleep. 

But here there was nothing; the very lack of 
any noise kept her awake. And Joan distinctly 
did not want to be awake, for while she was awake 
she would think, and she particularly did not want 
to think. But awake she stayed, and think she 
did. And her thoughts were mostly of May King. 

If she doesn^t want me to like her, and if she 
doesn^t want to like me, what did she let me come 
for? ” Joan whispered in a trembly little voice to 
herself. She makes me feel like a duty, and 
that is the most miserable way to feel in the whole 
world.^’ She lay quiet a few minutes and then 
went on: remember now that Mother said May 

King had always wanted to pay back the kindness 
of my grandfather in providing her tuition. And 
I guess that is just what I am—a chance to pay 
back what she thinks she owes.” 

But no one can lie awake and think forever, 
particularly weary little travelers, and before long 
Joan dozed off. 


44 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


It was very much later when she found herself 
sitting up in bed and shivering. From somewhere 
beneath her had come a prolonged scre-e-eak.’’ 

For one scared instant Joan thought it came 
from under her bed, and she sat tense and cold, 
afraid to breathe. Then after a few minutes of 
silence she heard again a muffled and drawn-out 
scre-e-eak, an eery and gruesome sound in the 
stillness. She realized now that it was not in her 
room, but much farther away, perhaps in the 
kitchen below. 

It was scary, just the same, and Joan still was 
afraid to move. Then suddenly some one 
bounded into bed beside her. It was Mary Alice, 
and she scurried under the covers, head and all. 
After a minute of rigid listening she began to feel 
around cautiously with her hand and discovered 
that Joan was sitting up. So she stuck her head 
out of the covers and whispered, Have you been 
hearing it? ” 

I just woke up,’’ Joan whispered back. “ But 
I’ve heard two awful screaks.” 

What can it be? I have never heard such a 
noise.” 

“ It sounds to me as if some one were drawing 
nails out of something,” Joan decided. 


MAY KING 45 

A final and louder screak emphasized her re¬ 
mark. 

'' Of course/' Mary Alice replied. ‘‘ How logi¬ 
cal of you! Everybody always pulls nails out of 
things in the dead of night." 

‘^Just the same," Joan argued stubbornly, 

nails sound just like that. I know, because last 
week we discovered that we had forgotten to pack 
a set of Dickens with the rest of our books, and 
Dad had to pry the packing-box open." 

They were whispering to keep up their courage, 
for the silence was getting oppressive. They 
listened carefully, and now that the noise had 
ceased, Joan began to doubt if it had sounded like 
nails being drawn after all. 

Perhaps that's the way a rat sounds in the 
middle of the night," she suggested softly as she 
snuggled down close to Mary Alice. 

But Mary Alice shook her head. Then they 
listened again, and everything was quiet. Finally 
they could barely distinguish some scraping and 
scratching noises that gradually grew louder and 
then ceased altogether. Joan could not identify 
these sounds, but she suggested desperately to 
Mary Alice, Maybe it's a dog or a coyote, or 
something prowling around back of the house." 


46 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


Dogs don’t scratch themselves that loud,” 
Mary Alice answered, with a shiver and a giggle. 

Let’s get out together and lock your door. I’ll 
never dare to go to sleep otherwise.” 


CHAPTER ly 


THE CLOSED DOOR 

Suddenly the sun was shining and the pink- 
and-white room was very light. Joan, opening 
her eyes a little, realized that it was morning. 
For a dazed minute she looked at the quaint room 
and did not know where she was. Then it all came 
back in a rush—Judd, Miss King, Mary Alice, 
and, last, the strange noises of the night before. 

With that memory she sat up in bed and shook 
Mary Alice, who yawned, blinked, and closed her 
eyes again. 

Wake up,^^ Joan insisted. I want to know 
if anything exciting happened after I went to 
sleep.^^ 

Hm-m-m,” Mary Alice meditated, opening 
one eye a little. I can’t remember staying 
awake to watch you fall asleep.” Then she shut 
the eye again and lay very still. 

It’s no use pretending that you are asleep, 
Mary Alice,” Joan stated. “ Because I want to 
talk! ” 

“ I knew it,” Mary Alice muttered regretfully. 

“ I knew by the look in your eye when I first saw 

47 


48 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


you that you were the kind of girl who would 
want to talk when I wanted to sleep! 

Well, if you knew it,^^ Joan laughed, you 
ought to be more resigned to it. I want to know 
if anything happened after I went to sleep.’^ 
You were still awake when we decided to lock 
the door, weren’t you? ” Mary Alice asked. 

Silly, of course I was.” 

And also when we were both so scared that 
neither of us would put a foot out of bed until 
the other did? And you recall how we poised on 
the edge of the bed and each of us put a foot on 
the floor at the same time? ” 

“ Yes,” Joan answered with a reminiscent little 
shiver. And how we went hand in hand to lock 
the door, and how we tiptoed and tiptoed, and I 
thought we never should reach it! ” 

And of course,” Mary Alice took up the story, 
“you remember when we were scurrying back 
to bed, how you suddenly gave a yelp and leaped 
in, and lay there shivering so that you shook the 
whole bedstead, and scared me to death? ” 

“ Well, if you had stepped on the bristly side of 
a hair-brush, you would have yelped, too. Be¬ 
sides, we had been talking about coyotes and rats 
and things, and, ugh-h-h, when I put my foot on 


THE CLOSED DOOR 49 

those bristles I thought that the brush was some¬ 
thing alive lying there.’^ 

I suppose that I left my hair-brush on your 
bed last night after I got through brushing my 
hair, and it got knocked off on the floor. It must 
have felt as an angry porcupine looks! I don’t 
blame you for yelping; what I can’t understand 
is why you didn’t give a full-grown scream.” 

I was so scared that I couldn’t,” Joan laughed. 

But I must have gone to sleep after that; I 
can’t remember anything else.” 

I listened for a while, but I couldn’t hear a 
sound.” 

Mary Alice, what do you suppose we heard 
last night?” 

“ Well, it sounded like a lot of things, but 
mostly like an ill-bred ghost,” Mary Alice finally 
decided. 

Ill-bred? ” Joan exclaimed, bewildered. 

^^Yes. All well-bred ghosts make a few pre¬ 
liminary noises and then glide through your room 
so that you can see them. It’s just like a well- 
bred person coming to your house and knocking 
and coming in, and an ill-bred person coming and 
knocking and skipping around the corner before 
you get to the door.” 


50 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

“ I’ll take my ghosts ill-bred, then,” laughed 
Joan. I don’t want any wraith gliding through 
my room. But, seriously, Mary Alice, the man 
who drove me out from the station last night told 
me that this place had all the 'makin’s of a 
ghost.’ ” 

How funny! ” Mary Alice cried, sitting up in 
bed. “ What are the ^ makin’s of a ghost *—a 
white sheet? ” 

^M’m not sure what he meant,” Joan admitted. 

But he said, or at least he implied, that there 
has to be a disappearance or a death before there 
can be a ghost.” 

Which is it here? ” 

I don’t know. I had just asked him when 
Miss King came out of the door.” 

This house has probably had plenty of 
deaths,” Mary Alice mused, because Miss King 
said yesterday that part of it is over seventy-five 
years old. In fact, if that were the only require¬ 
ment, there would probably be a whole flock of 
ghosts here! ” 

The ^ makin’s ’ might have been a peculiar 
death or perhaps a disappearance,” Joan went on. 
‘‘At least, that noise last night was creepy, al¬ 
though I imagine that we shall find out this 


THE CLOSED DOOR 51 

morning that a particularly huge rat has been 
caught in a trap.” 

“ Of course we shall. It always happens that 
way. I remember last summer, when I went on 
a camping trip with a bunch of girls, a big rain 
came up and blew our tents down and we slept in 
a deserted hay-loft all night. The rain and 
lightning were scary, and we heard the most de¬ 
liciously spooky noises all night long. But the 
next morning we found that it was an old cow 
that had taken refuge down below. It always 
happens that way,” Mary Alice finished pessimis¬ 
tically. 

Maybe this was Mrs. Oldham, taking the hair¬ 
pins out of her hair,” Joan suggested with a laugh. 

Mrs. Oldham—food—let’s get up,” cried 
Mary Alice. 

‘‘And investigate the noises,” Joan added, 
hopping out of bed. 

In a few minutes a tantalizing odor of toast 
drifted up to the bedroom and made the girls 
scurry into their dresses. 

^ Mary, our cook, smells exactly like hot 
buttered toast,’ ” Mary Alice caroled, bounding 
down the back stairs after Joan’s flying feet. 

Mrs. Oldham had breakfast on a small table by 


52 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


the sunny south window of the kitchen, and the 
girls ate hungrily. 

Finally Mary Alice took a last slice of toast, 
contemplated it, and slowly spread it with mar¬ 
malade. She took a bite, sighed, took another, and 
Joan knew that she was not hungry any more. 
Both girls began to look around the kitchen. It 
was a long, narrow room, reaching across the back 
of the house. It was scrupulously clean and light 
and cheerful, and Joan could not see a thing out 
of place. The walls were plastered and painted 
a clear gray, and their surface was unbroken ex¬ 
cept for the doors and windows. There was no 
built-in furniture, and the miscellaneous collection 
of cabinets and tables and chairs had been painted 
to match the walls. The stove was an ordinary 
kitchen range, but in one end of the room, between 
the back stairs and the pantry, was a huge fire¬ 
place. It was built of uneven rocks mortared to¬ 
gether, and was very old, Joan decided, because 
it was so large, and because there were iron hooks 
projecting from the masonry to hang kettles on. 
It was swept out carefully, and evidently not used. 

Mary Alice had been watching Joan study the 
fireplace, and she volunteered, The fireplace be¬ 
longed to the original house, the part that I said 


THE CLOSED DOOR 


53 


was seventy-five years old. I guess this kitchen 
is about all of the original home left; the front 
rooms are newer. Isn't that right, Mrs. Old¬ 
ham? " she asked as the housekeeper came from 
the pantry. 

Yes," Mrs. Oldham replied briefly, energeti¬ 
cally stirring some preserves on the stove. The 
original house burned nearly to the ground, and 
when old Mr. King rebuilt, he tore down all of it 
except this kitchen." 

The furniture must have been saved from the 
fire, though, for Miss King told me yesterday that 
some of it is very old," Mary Alice added, getting 
up from the table. “ My, I feel good. I slept 
well, didn’t you, Joan? " winking elaborately at 
Joan. 

“ I missed the New York noises," Joan an¬ 
swered, nearly convulsed by Mary Alice’s assumed 
sleuth expression behind Mrs. Oldham’s back. 
That lady was cautiously sliding a cream pie into 
the oven and paid no attention to the girls. 

Did you have to stay up late, washing all the 
supper dishes, Mrs. Oldham? " Mary Alice con¬ 
tinued, pretending to take notes on the white- 
linen cuff of her dress. 

No. When supper is late I always leave the 


54 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

dishes until the next morning. Of course, it is too 
bad when I have late breakfast dishes, too.’^ And 
with that remark she bustled into the pantry, her 
hand mechanically replacing a hairpin in her mass 
of brown-gray hair. 

Her words left Joan gasping and Mary Alice 
looking blank. 

‘‘ She^s mad because she had to get our break¬ 
fast,” Joan whispered in dismay. But Miss 
King said we could be late.” 

She’s just grouchy, I guess,” Mary Alice de¬ 
cided. “ Let’s help her with the dishes and 
maybe she will relent.” 

So Joan cleared the breakfast-table, and both 
girls wiped the dishes and placed them carefully 
on the pantry shelves. 

Now what can we do to help you? ” Mary 
Alice asked. 

I want to scrub the kitchen now,” Mrs. Old¬ 
ham said. Thank you for helping me with the 
dishes, but I would rather have you go into some 
of the other rooms until the floor is dry. I hate 
to have my scrubbing tracked up.” 

Thus dismissed, the girls wandered into the 
dining-room. 

“ A most ordinary kitchen,” Mary Alice sighed. 


THE CLOSED DOOR 55 

“ I didn’t see a sign of a ghostly visitor. Let^s 
look around the other rooms.” 

All right,” Joan assented. But I know the 
noises were in the kitchen.” 

“ It won’t do any harm to look, though.” And 
Mary Alice put her words into action. ‘‘ The 
dining-room looks just as it did last night. Let’s 
go into the library.” 

The library did not reveal anything interesting, 
and the girls again paused for conference. 

The kitchen goes across the back of the house, 
and the dining-room and library across this side,” 
Joan said, looking out of the library window. 
“ Then the hall divides these rooms from an¬ 
other,” she went on as she stood in the library 
door and surveyed the front hall, with its long 
staircase. suppose that door opens into a 
living-room, doesn’t it, Mary Alice? ” 

‘‘ I suppose so,” Mary Alice agreed, looking over 
her shoulder. But I didn’t get here until late 
yesterday, and while we were waiting for you. 
Miss King and I sat in the library. Let’s see.” 

I don’t know of any reason why we 
shouldn’t,” Joan said thoughtfully, looking at the 
closed door across the hall. “Yet that door 
seems shut so tightly.” 


56 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

“ Oh, well, it’s just because you are accustomed 
to’ big doors and open spaces between, your 
rooms,” Mary Alice said easily, that these little 
dark doors seem different. Besides, Miss King 
keeps all the doors shut everywhere.” 

As she spoke she stepped across the hall and laid 
her hand on the door-knob. She turned it, stood 
for a minute with an amazed expression on her 
face, and then looked back at Joan. 

It’s locked! ” she gasped. 

Joan went slowly across the hall, reached out a 
cautious hand, and tried the door. It would not 
open. 

Quietly, almost guiltily, the girls returned to 
the library. 

‘‘How queer!” Joan whispered. “How un¬ 
usual to lock up your living-room! ” 

“ Do you think we did wrong to try the door? ” 
Mary Alice asked, puzzled. 

“ I can’t see why,” Joan answered. “ Of course, 
we wouldn’t think of opening the other bedroom 
doors up-stairs, but surely—the living-room 
door-” 

“Maybe it isn’t a living-room,” Mary Alice 
said. “ Maybe it is the ghost’s bedroom.” 

“ Perhaps,” Joan admitted. “ But I’m sure that 



THE CLOSED DOOR 57 

he wasn^t in his bedroom when we heard him last 
night. Those noises sounded right under me; 
they could not have come from rooms on the other 
side of the house.^^ 

I think you are right about that/’ Mary Alice 
admitted. “ Let’s go back to the kitchen and 
look again. I feel sure now that those noises were 
not ordinary ones, don’t you? ” 

Yes.” 

Both girls retraced their steps to the kitchen 
and waited in the doorway until Mrs. Oldham 
gave them permission to enter. 

How soon will Miss King be back? ” Mary 
Alice asked, when they were beginning to feel 
rather foolish, standing in the middle of the floor 
and looking stealthily about them. 

“ This afternoon, sometime,” Mrs. Oldham re¬ 
plied, and disappeared in the pantry. 

As soon as she was out of sight Mary Alice 
walked the length of the kitchen and back. 

What is that for? ” Joan whispered. 

To find out if there are any loose boards in 
the floor,” she confided in a sepulchral tone. If 
one had been loose, I should have tripped over it, 
because I always trip over loose boards. It’s no 
use; the ghost evidently brought his nails and 


58 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

boards with him, and when he got through with 
his seance, he cleaned up the mess/^ 

‘‘ You are not thorough,^^ Joan asserted, enter¬ 
ing into the fun. “ Lo! You haven’t looked at 
the ceiling.” And she backed around, scanning a 
very innocent gray plastering, until she stumbled 
over the waste-basket and upset it. She got down 
to pick up the scattered papers, while Mary Alice 
poked around the fireplace. Suddenly they heard 
a slight ejaculation from the pantry, and Mrs. 
Oldham came scurrying out. 

“ Girls, would you mind going after a dozen 
eggs for me? I am out of them, and Miss King 
is expecting me to do enough baking to-day to 
last all the week.” 

‘‘ Of course,” said Mary Alice. 

“ Where can we find a store? ” Joan asked in 
perplexity. 

Not a store,” Mrs. Oldham corrected, but a 
neighbor’s house. I guess you had better go to 
Mrs. Parrott’s. Here is a basket and some 
change, although she probably won’t take any 
money.” 

“And where is Mrs. Parrott’s?” Mary Alice 
questioned, as she took the basket. 

“I’m telling you,” Mrs. Oldham said im- 


THE CLOSED DOOR 


59 


patiently. Go down the lane in front of the 
house until you come to the main road. Turn to 
the right and go down that road until you come 
to a road leading west. Go along it for about a 
mile—or until you come to a house, for the first 
one is Mrs. Parrott^s.” 

We’ll be back in a jiffy,” Mary Alice cried. 

“ There’s no hurry,” the housekeeper said 
hastily. “Just get back in time for luncheon. 
I won’t need them until after luncheon. 

“ Luncheon’s at twelve-thirty, sharp,” she called 
after the girls as they raced out the back door and 
around the house. 



CHAPTER Y 

■V 

A RUSTY NAIL AND A DOZEN EGGS 

The morning air was crisp and fresh, and the 
girls were glad to be out-of-doors. They ran 
about half-way down the lane, and then stopped 
under a huge walnut-tree, whose dense foliage 
made an inviting shade on the green grass beneath 
it. 

“We have until twelve-thirty,” Mary Alice 
cried. “ Let^s stop in this cute green spot and 
rest.” 

“Rest already?” laughed Joan, but she sank 
down on the grass very willingly. 

Mary Alice sat down beside her and put the 
basket over her head, using the handle for a strap 
under her chin. 

“ I’m disappointed,” she sighed. “ No ghost! ” 

“ Don’t be too sure about that,” Joan teased 
her. 

“ What do you mean? We didn’t find a trace 
of him, unless he was behind that locked door, and 
you don’t know any more about that than I do.” 

“ Don’t be too sure that we didn’t find a trace 

of him,” Joan reiterated. 

60 


61 


A RUSTY NAIL AND EGGS 

“Explain yourself immediately/^ Mary Alice 
demanded, taking the basket off her head so that 
she could look properly autocratic. 

“ We-ell,^^ drawled Joan, lying back on the 
grass and keeping Mary Alice in suspense as long 
as possible, “ we-ell, what do you think I found 
in the waste-basket?^’ 

“A footprint!” Mary Alice ejaculated; “a 
ghostly footprint, with the left hind toe missing 1 ” 

It was Joan’s turn to be nettled. “ If you can’t 
be serious, I’m not going to tell you.” 

“ Oh, Joan,” Mary Alice begged, “ I thought 
you were joking, yourself. Do tell me; I am 
dying to know.” 

Joan was so anxious to hear what Mary Alice 
would say that she did not wait any longer. She 
sat up quickly. 

“ Look I ” she triumphed, drawing a long bent 
nail out of the pocket of her dress, and waving it 
before Mary Alice’s astonished eyes. 

“ It’s rusty on the head,” Mary Alice whispered, 
capturing it and looking at it. “ And it is all 
crooked, as if it has been drawn out of something. 
It fits those noises exactly! ” 

“Yes,” Joan gloated, enjoying her find. 

“ Very well, Sherlock Holmes, I’ll be Watson. 


62 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Where did you get it? And why didn’t you let 
me know? ” 

“ I didn’t have any chance to let you know,” 
Joan answered the questions backwards, for 
Mrs. Oldham was standing right there.” 

“ But where did you find it? ” 

“ In the waste-basket, the simplest place to look 
for trash! You remember how I knocked it over? 
Well, when I was putting the papers back into it, 
I saw this sticking in one side. It was caught 
between the reed fibers.” 

But we surely heard more than one nail.” 

“ That’s what I thought; so I noticed the 
waste-paper. There was a wrapper off the bread 

we had this morning-” 

How do you know? ” 

Well, of course, I’m just guessing. But there 
was a new loaf lying on the bread-board, with 
about enough missing for our breakfast. Don’t 
you think it is safe to assume that the wrapper 
came from that loaf of bread and was put in the 
basket just before our breakfast. Miss Doubter? ” 
I wasn’t doubting,” Mary Alice objected. I 
just wanted to understand.” 

And then there was an old newspaper, last 
Tuesday’s, in fact; so it might just as easily have 



A RUSTY NAIL AND EGGS 


63 


been put in this morning, and that was all, besides 
the nail. Now I can’t imagine that basket sitting 
in the kitchen all day yesterday and collecting 
nothing but one newspaper. I think the basket 
was emptied in the night or the first thing this 
morning, and the nails and whatever else was in 
the ghostly party last night were thrown out. 
But this one nail got caught in the fibers.” 

“ I certainly can’t dispute that logic,” Mary 
Alice conceded. 

For a few minutes the girls sat silently thinking 
over the strange noises of the night before. Then 
they got up soberly and continued their walk 
down the road. 

With all that ability to reason,” Mary Alice 
said finally, can’t you figure out the rest of the 
mystery? ” 

‘‘No, I can’t,” Joan admitted regretfully. “ I 
can’t think of a genuinely logical and sensible 
reason why anybody should be up at that time of 
the night opening a box, which in my mind is the 
most ordinary thing to draw nails from that I can 
imagine.” 

“ That is a rather involved sentence,” said 
Mary Alice critically, “ but I understand it.” 

“ Do you suppose,” Joan went on, “ that Judd’s 


64 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

remark and those noises have anything to do with 
the name ‘ Scared Acres ” 

Scared Acres? Scared Acres? Oh, what a 
funny name,^’ Mary Alice chuckled. And what 
is it, anyway? 

“ Why, that’s the name of Miss King’s ranch,” 
Joan explained in amazement. Haven’t you 
ever heard it before? ” 

^^You mustn’t for^t that I’ve only been in 
Fame a little while, and of course the young folks 
at the college aren’t interested in Miss King and 
her Scared Acres; so I haven’t had any chance to 
hear of it.” 

“ That’s right,” Joan admitted. But now 
that you know, what do you think? ” 

I’ll tell you, Joan,” Mary Alice said solemnly, 

I’ve thought and thought, and all that I have 
thought of is—nothing! ” 

Think again,” Joan demanded. “ What do 
you suppose any one would name a ranch Scared 
Acres for? ” 

I have it! ” Mary Alice cried. 

You have? ” 

“ I have. Maybe once upon a time the acres 
got scared, and ever since they have been called 
Scared Acres! ” 


A RUSTY NAIL AND EGGS 65 

‘‘ Oh, Mary Alice, I thought you had really 
thought of something/^ 

“ Well, that’s more than you have thought of.” 

“ No, it isn’t,” said Joan triumphantly, “ be¬ 
cause I believe you came pretty close to it, after 
all. It must be called Scared Acres because the 
owners got scared! ” 

“ And that fits in with the fact that there still 
seems to be plenty of things for people to get 
scared about there now.” 

I 

By this time the girls had come to the end of 
a corn-field, and suddenly saw Mrs. Parrott’s 
little house tucked back among the trees. They 
found Mrs. Parrott on the back porch, shelling 
peas, while a chubby baby leaned out of a high- 
chair and reached longing arms towards her 
mother. 

The girls introduced themselves and told their 
errand. Mrs. Parrott insisted on going to the 
hen-house for fresh eggs; so Joan went with her, 
and Mary Alice amused the baby by crawling 
about on her hands and knees and barking like a 
dog. 

• Mrs. Parrott was so jolly and her baby so 
chubby and good-natured that they stayed for 
some time, eating hot gingerbread and talking. 


66 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Finally they started home, and Mrs. Parrott 
walked as far as the road with them. 

Youll have a long, hot walk back to Scared 
Acres,’’ Mrs. Parrott said as she gave each of them 
a big scarlet zinnia from her flower-bed. 

“ Yes,” answered Mary Alice, and then con¬ 
tinued hastily, ‘‘We were just wondering, as we 
came over, why Miss King’s ranch is called Scared 
Acres.” 

“ I’ve often wondered, too,” Mrs. Parrott said. 
“ When I first came here, three years ago, I asked 
Miss King. She said that Scared Acres had been 
the name for years, and changed the subject. So 
I didn’t ask any more questions.” 

“ Perhaps we shouldn’t, either,” said Mary Alice 
thoughtfully, and the girls started home. 

The sun was higher now, and getting warm with 
all the intensity of a Kansas summer sun, and the 
roads seemed dustier and the way longer. 

“ Doesn’t a diagonal equal the square root of 
the sum of the squares of the other two sides? ” 
Mary Alice asked. 

“ It does in New York,” Joan laughed. “ Are 
you cramming for your entrance exams? ” 

“ Don’t remind me of those exams! No, I was 
going to suggest that we climb this fence and cut 


A RUSTY NAIL AND EGGS 67 

across the pasture. It will be shorter and much 
better walking than the dusty road.’^ 

Joan hesitated and looked at the proposed 
route. But see all those trees over there. They 
wind around as if they were on a river-bank, and 
we sha'nT be able to get across.’^ What really 
made her hesitate was the sight of two cows idly 
switching their tails and grazing in the middle of 
the pasture. 

All the more fun,^^ cried Mary Alice. ‘‘ Well 
go adventuring. This land is part of Scared 
Acres, so we shall not be trespassing.’’ 

Joan could not think of another excuse, so she 
reluctantly squirmed under the barbed wire fence 
after Mary Alice, and started across the pasture. 
Not until they were safely past the cows did Joan 
begin to enjoy the walk. 

Before long they came to the river, a busy little 
stream that meandered here and there with much 
gurgling and rippling. It was cooler under the 
trees, and the girls loafed along, while Mary Alice 
taught Joan to skip pebbles. They passed several 
ripples that were shallow enough to wade across, 
but they went on, expecting to find a foot-bridge 
or a log, since Miss King must have some way to 
get to her pasture besides the long road. 


68 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


Soon they heard the musical splash of falling 
water, and hurried around a bend in the river, to 
find the water eddying toward the opposite bank 
and plunging down about ten feet to make a 
lovely falls. 

What a beautiful place,’^ cried Joan. Let’s 
bring our lunch out here for a picnic sometime; 
that is, if Mrs. Oldham will let us,” she added 
with a smile. ‘‘We can explain to her that it will 
mean fewer dishes for her to wash.” 

“ Let’s,” agreed Mary Alice. “ See how the 
water sparkles and glistens. Let’s name it Sap¬ 
phire Falls immediately, before we learn that 
some one has already named it Terrified Waters, 
or Frightened-to-Death Torrents, or something 
equally unpleasant.” 

“ I christen thee Sapphire Falls,” Joan ex¬ 
claimed as she knelt by the water and flicked a 
handful of bright drops into the air. “Why, 
Mary Alice,” she went on, “ I do believe that the 
rocks that make this falls are cemented together. 
What a nice idea some one had to make a lovely 
waterfall.” 

“ I guess it wasn’t nice, but practical,” Mary 
Alice answered. “We have been so engrossed in 
the waterfall that we forgot to look across the 


69 


A RU8TY NAIL AND EGGS 

bank. There’s an old mill over there, all covered 
with vines.” 

Joan followed her pointing finger and saw a 
weather-beaten building. It was partly over¬ 
grown with green, and young bushes crept up to 
the very door. In the weeds of the river’s bank 
she could discern the outline of a great water¬ 
wheel. 

“ Let’s go over and explore it,” Joan suggested. 

It looks entirely too tempting to pass by.” 

‘‘ We must,” said Mary Alice. I said we were 
going adventuring when we cut across the fields, 
and for adventurers not to investigate everything 
in their path is a great crime.” 

We’ll have to go back and find some shallow 
ripples and wade across,” Joan added. The 
water is too deep and swift here.” 

Wading the ripples was a little adventure in 
itself, and took some time, for the girls had to 
sit on the opposite bank and wriggle their toes in 
the sunshine until they were dry enough for their 
stockings. 

Then they scampered back to the mill and 
peered in at the door, or at least where the door 
had been—it was leaning against the wall now, in 
a warped, worn-out pose. 


70 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Both girls lost their eagerness to explore as they 
looked through the door. Mary Alice drew a 
sigh of disappointment, and Joan echoed it. The 
inside of the mill did not reproduce the fascina¬ 
tion of the outside. True, the same gray, worn 
logs showed in the walls, but, instead of straying 
green tendrils of wild grape-vines hanging from 
them, there were stringy, fly-filled cobwebs. A 
huge, rusty mass of machinery filled one end, and 
great corn-bins were all around the walls. At one 
corner a narrow stairway led to an upper floor. 
Everything was dusty, and the whole place looked 
rat-haunted. 

Let’s not go in,” Joan suggested. It’s just 
dirty and tumble-down.” 

And full of spiders, probably,” Mary Alice 
finished, but she continued to stand in the door¬ 
way. 

Joan turned away and sat down on the flat 
rocks beside the falls, dabbling her fingers in the 
clear water and enjoying the quiet beauty of the 
woods. 

Mary Alice had disappeared from sight, and 
Joan knew that she had gone inside the mill after 
all. 

Come here, quick! ” her voice came after a 


A RUSTY NAIL AND EGGS 


71 


few minutes, and Joan jumped up so hastily that 
she slipped on the moss-covered rocks and nearly 
tumbled into the river. 

“ What is it? she called as she ran to the mill 
door and peered in. 

Mary Alice was standing by the staircase, one 
tightly-clenched hand held out before her. 

“ Guess what I found on the second step of the 
stairs,’^ she demanded with a glow of triumph on 
her face. 

Well, if it is a spider or a thousand-legged 
worm, you surely have it squeezed to death,’’ Joan 
cried as she came over to Mary Alice’s side. 

** Now, guess,” Mary Alice insisted. 

‘^You found it on the stairway,” Joan pon¬ 
dered, and turned to inspect the stairs. Why— 
why, Mary Alice, look! ” she pointed dramatically 
to a shiny new board which had been nailed over 
one of the rotting steps of the stairs. “Have 
you seen that new step? ” 

“ Yes, yes,” Mary Alice said impatiently. 
“ That’s what tempted me into the mill. But 
that isn’t half so important as what I have in my 
hand.” 

“ Oh, show me! ” Joan begged. “ I haven’t the 
slightest idea.” 


72 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


“ You have to guess once.’^ 

Well, then, I guess a ghostly footprint, with 
all the toes missing,’^ mimicked Joan. 

You mean thing,’^ giggled Mary Alice. But 
I’ll have to show you after that. Look! ” she 
opened her hand and disclosed a long, black hair¬ 
pin. “ Maybe you will guess whose hairpin this 
isT 

“ Mrs. Oldham’s,’^ Joan exclaimed immediately. 

“ It surely looks like it,^’ Mary Alice responded 
thoughtfully, ^‘and I found it right here.” She 
carefully replaced the pin on the second step. 

Together the girls raised their eyes from the 
pin to the new board, and on up the stairway.- 


CHAPTER VI 


THE MAN IN THE MILL 

For several minutes the girls stared up the miU- 
stairway before either of them spoke. 

What do you suppose Mrs. Oldham was doing 
in this deserted place? Joan finally questioned. 

Somehow I canT think that she just ventured 
in as we did.” 

‘‘ Neither can I,” agreed Mary Alice. “ But 
I’m sure that whatever she wanted concerned it-* 
self with the loft, and not with the first floor, 
because the hairpin was on the step, and then 
there is that new board. Shall we see what is on 
the next floor? ” 

Joan looked hesitatingly up the stairway. It 
was steep and narrow, and turned abruptly at the 
top for the last few steps. She did not fancy 
going up into that black cavern, but curiosity 
urged her, and she nodded agreement to Mary 
Alice’s question. 

Having decided to go, neither of them was eager 
to start. Finally, hand in hand, they set foot on 

the first step. That one safely conquered, they 

73 


74 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

stole on until they came to the step that would 
put their heads above the landing. There they 
paused again to gather courage for the venture. 
They were afraid to speak for fear some one might 
be lying in wait for them; so, after a few silent 
gestures which neither could understand, they 
drew a long breath and ran up the last steps. 

Whew! said Mary Alice. What should 
we have done if there had been somebody here? 

I think we should have gone down a great 
deal faster than we came up,’^ Joan vowed. But 
no one has been here for ages.’’ 

The loft was dark and small, and covered with 
dust and cobwebs. There was some extension of 
the mill-machinery here, and across one end of 
the narrow room was a crude partition. 

“ Let’s go down,” Joan continued, watching a 
big spider scurry out of sight. 

Before we go, we ought to look behind that 
partition,” Mary Alice suggested indecisively. 

We’ll just see more cobwebs and dirt,” Joan 
demurred. 

“ Probably, but until I’m sure I shall not be 
satisfied. Let’s open the door of that partition for 
just a tiny peek.’^ 

Mary Alice did not wait for Joan’s answer, but 


THE MAN IN THE MILL 


75 


walked across the loft and opened the door. Joan 
was treading closely on her heels and peered over 
her shoulder. The room was small and lighted 
only by a narrow window at one side. It was 
filled with rickety, worn furniture—but here Joan 
stopped her inventory in surprise. 

Mary Alice, some one is living in this room! 

For on the tumble-down bed in one corner were 
clean sheets and blankets. The wobbly table in 
the center of the room was covered with rotted 
oilcloth, but a tray of unwashed dishes and sev¬ 
eral well-kept books were lying on it. By sniffing, 
the girls could detect the stale smell of tobacco- 
smoke. 

Those dishes,^^ said Mary Alice, taking a few 
cautious steps inside the room, are just like the 
ones we ate off this morning.” 

Maybe there is a name in one of the books,” 
Joan suggested. Let’s look and see.” 

But as each girl reached a hand for a book, they 
heard a rustling noise from the direction of the 
window. Both of them stood paralyzed for a 
minute, and then, without moving their bodies, 
turned their heads quickly towards the window. 
At first they saw nothing at all, and then the 
bough of the tree just outside the mill rustled 


76 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

against the window under the weight of a black 
cat they could see crouching on the limb. 

The noise was innocent enough, but the girls 
did not get over their fright. 

Suppose,” Joan whispered, that the owner 
of this room should come up the stairs! ” 

Simultaneously both girls tiptoed out of the 
door, closed it quietly behind them, sneaked down 
the stairs, and out of the stuffy old mill, pausing 
only long enough for Mary Alice to snatch up the 
basket of eggs. Once outside, they abandoned 
caution and fled noisily through the trees until 
they came suddenly out of the woods and found 
themselves among the shacks around Miss King^s 
stables. 

Why,” Joan gasped, stopping in amazement 
and staring blankly at the back of the house, the 
mill isn’t any distance from the house! All these 
trees just concealed it from us.” 

“ Come on,” Mary Alice urged. Let’s get to 
the house. We don’t want to be seen coming 
from here.” 

They tried to walk casually, but quickly, up to 
the back porch and stroll calmly into the kitchen. 
Their relief when Mrs. Oldham wasn’t in sight 


was unmense. 


THE MAN IN THE MILL 


77 


“ Whew! sighed Mary Alice explosively, as 
she dropped into a kitchen-chair, “ it’s a good 
thing there isn’t any one here to wonder where 
you got that cobweb in your hair! ” 

Or where you got that streak of dirt on your 
face,” Joan retaliated, wiping her hair with her 
handkerchief. Put the eggs in the pantry and 
let’s go up-stairs and get cleaned up.” 

All right,” Mary Alice agreed, going into the 
pantry while Joan ran up the back stairs. 

In a few minutes Mary Alice followed. She 
was eating a cookie, but her eyes fairly danced 
with excitement. She did not say a word, though, 
until both she and Joan had changed to fresh 
frocks and made themselves clean and dainty 
again. 

Well,” she began as she sat on the edge of the 
bed, “ what do you think I found in the pantry 
when I went to put the eggs away? ” 

Don’t tell me that Mrs. Oldham was in there 
all the time and heard what we said? ” gasped 
Joan. 

“ No.” 

“ Well,” Joan speculated, relieved to know that 
no one had overheard their words, another hair- 
pin?” 


78 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

No, silly,’’ laughed Mary Alice. But you’ll 
never guess; so I will tell you. It has to do with 
Mrs. Oldham, and I hate to be suspicious, but 
there were at least two dozen eggs on the shelf in 
the pantry! ” 

And she sent us all those miles after eggs,” 
Joan exclaimed indignantly. “ But, of course,” 
she added less violently, if we hadn’t gone after 
the eggs, we shouldn’t have found the mill.” 

“But you are missing the real point,” Mary 
Alice cried. “ Why did she send us for eggs when 
she had eggs? ” 

“ Oh,” exclaimed Joan, staring at Mary Alice 
round-eyed, “ she must have wanted to get us out 
of the way! ” 

“ Of course,” said Mary Alice solemnly, “ and 
we probably would be very much interested in 
knowing what she did while we were gone.” 

The girls sat silent for a few minutes, puzzling 
over the problem. 

“ Oh, Joan, I know,” cried Mary Alice. “ Re¬ 
member that tray of food in the mill? It was 
somebody’s breakfast probably, and Mrs. Oldham 
wanted to take it there and didn’t want us to see 
her.” 

“Yes,” agreed Joan, “that is a good guess. 


79 


THE MAN IN THE MILL 

However, if it were not for the tray of food and 
the hairpin, I should be inclined to think that 
some tramp was living in the mill/^ 

A tramp with clean sheets? ” said Mary Alice 
reproachfully. 

'' That’s right,” admitted Joan with a laugh. 

Still, couldn’t it be a hired hand? ” 

Of course,” Mary Alice said instantly. Of 
course. The man in the mill is Uncle Ben, be¬ 
yond a doubt.” 

Who? ” 

Uncle Ben. He probably lives in the loft, 
and of course Mrs. Oldham might take his meals 
to him on a tray. At least, he doesn’t eat in the 
house, and I suppose we may presume that he 
eats somewhere.” 

Mary Alice, I don’t know what you are talk¬ 
ing about,” Joan cried. Stop a minute and tell 
me who Uncle Ben is.” 

Oh, I forgot that you didn’t know. Uncle 
Ben is Miss King’s old negro coachman. He 
takes care of the two cows and the comfortable 
old horse. He is very old, and not of much as¬ 
sistance any more, but I think Miss King keeps 
him because he has always been with the family.” 

I haven’t seen Uncle Ben yet, but of course I 


80 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

haven’t had much chance to,” Joan interrupted. 

Is he the only farm-hand? ” 

Miss King doesn’t farm any more, so Uncle 
Ben doesn’t do much at all. He doesn’t even take 
care of the car, I know. That is why, by the 
way, we didn’t meet you in Fame last night. The 
old car wouldn’t start, and Miss King didn’t know 
what was the matter with it, and of course I 
didn’t, and Uncle Ben just walked around and 
around it, saying that he wouldn’t touch the 
plaguy thing, and that in the old days he had 
never been late to meet a train, although it took 
him nearly half a day to drive a team to Fame. 
Finally, when Miss King telephoned in for a 
mechanic to come out, and for Judd to meet you, 
Uncle Ben just snorted in disgust and stalked 
away towards the stables. So I know he is the 
only man around the place.” 

Joan smiled at the picture of the indignant old 
darky’s contempt of the automobile. I want to 
meet Uncle Ben soon,” she said, “but, Mary 
Alice, I’m sure that he doesn’t live in the mill- 
room. I know that Miss King wouldn’t have any 
of her servants living in such a dirty place. More 
likely he lives in some one of the numerous shacks 
around the stables.” 


THE MAN IN THE MILL 


81 


“ YouVe right,” Mary Alice agreed. I sup¬ 
pose that it wasn’t Uncle Ben in the mill. Be¬ 
sides, I think that there is something mysterious 
about the man who is living there,—something to 
do with the rusty nail and the dozen eggs.” 

“ It does look like it,” Joan agreed. 

“ Do you think that we should tell Miss King? ” 
Mary Alice questioned reluctantly. 

I’ve been thinking of that, too,” Joan an¬ 
swered. ‘‘ But if we do, she will probably give us 
some simple explanation of the affair, and then all 
the mystery will be spoiled.” 

I know it. And I’ve always wanted to be 
mixed up in a mystery.” 

Let’s try to find out for ourselves,” Joan went 
on; and then, if we discover that it is some¬ 
thing Miss King doesn’t know, we will tell her.” 

All right. And now let^s go down-stairs. It 
must be nearly luncheon time.” 

The girls entered the kitchen just as Mrs. Old¬ 
ham came in the back door with the mail. There 
was a letter from Joan’s mother, and she ran back 
to her room to read it. She curled up on the bed 
and kissed the precious message. The sight of 
her mother’s handwriting made her suddenly 
homesick, although at the same time she realized 


82 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

that, with the exception of the night before, she 
hadn’t had time to be homesick since she had 
been in Kansas. 

There were only a few lines on her mother’s 
heavy white stationery, but Joan knew that the 
boat had sailed at midnight of the day she had 
left New York, and she knew that her mother had 
had to snatch the time to write from a myriad of 
last-minute arrangements. 

The letter was a cheerful one, in which Mrs. 
Kellogg said that she had always wanted to visit 
Kansas, and that Joan must remember every little 
thing to tell her, and that she would bring back a 
long diary from Europe, and it would be like two 
trips for each of them. 

The letter made Joan feel that they would be 
together soon, telling of interesting adventures, 
but when she realized that she had been in Kansas 
only one day, and that, although an adventure 
seemed to loom close, she would not be able to 
confide it to her mother for six months, she felt 
very blue. 

Then she got out her own stationery and began 
to answer the letter, telling about Mary Alice, 
and how jolly she was, and how quaint and at¬ 
tractive the pink-and-white room was. 


THE MAN IN THE MILL 


83 


Then Mary Alice called her to luncheon, and 
Joan was glad to break oh with, It’s time for 
luncheon. Mother, dear, but I’ll write again soon,”, 
for her mother had said that she hoped Joan and 
May King were going to like each other very 
much, and Joan didn’t want to answer that par¬ 
ticular question. 

As Mary Alice called a second time, Joan 
hastily sealed the envelope, and, wiping the traces 
of tears from her face, went down-stairs. She 
found Mary Alice sitting on the floor by the south 
window, with an enormous black cat in her arms. 

This is the cat,” Mary Alice said significantly, 
and Joan remembered the creature outside the 
mill-window. Miss King has only this one big 
cat, and she stays down at the stables most of the 
time, Mrs. Oldham says,” Mary Alice went on, 
tickling the cat’s ears. 

Isn’t she a beauty? Let me hold her a 
while,” Joan cried, as she bent over pussy’s sleek 
back. But the cat clung to Mary Alice, and the 
other girl desisted. 

It’s no use,” Mary Alice triumphed. “ I have 
fed her a huge saucer of milk and she is mine.” 

All right, I can’t compete with a saucer of 
milk, I know,” Joan laughed, but just wait until 


84 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

I find a mouse. Then I bet I win her away from 
you. What is her name? ” 

“What is her name, anyway, Mrs. Oldham?’^ 
Mary Alice queried, as the housekeeper set a plate 
of olives and a dish of marmalade on the table. 

“ Puss, I guess,’’ Mrs. Oldham answered as she 
hurried back to the stove. 

“ Puss! ” Mary Alice exclaimed indignantly. 
“Why, you poor old kitty, you! Just think, 
Joan, how ashamed she must be when she goes 
to afternoon tea with Cicero Maltese and Con¬ 
stance Tiger Cat, and has to admit that she hasn’t 
any name but Puss! ” 

Puss’s contented purring did not seem to indi¬ 
cate much embarrassment on her part, but Mary 
Alice continued, “ We are going to name you. 
M-m-m, what shall we call her, Joan? ” 

“ I can’t think of anything. She’s your cat; 
you name her.” 

“ That’s fair enough. I’ll name her,” Mary 
Alice said solemnly. “ I’ll call her Pickles.” 

“ Why Pickles? ” cried Joan amazed. 

“ Do you remember, in ‘ Alice in Wonderland,’ 
how the Mad Hatter or the March Hare, I’ve for¬ 
gotten which, said he drew a picture of every¬ 
thing that began with an M. ‘ Why with an M? ’ 


THE MAN IN THE MILL 


85 


asked Alice. ^ Why not ? ^ answered the Mad 
Hatter. So when you ask ^ Why Pickles? ^ I can 
only answer, ^ Why not? ' 

Pickles it is, then,^^ Joan laughed. But if 
you will lay Pickles down, Mrs. Oldham is wait¬ 
ing for us to eat olives for luncheon/’ 

After luncheon the girls decided to spend the 
afternoon laying out their tennis-court, and, after 
a long altercation over ways and means, they 
wheedled an old sheet from Mrs. Oldham to tear 
into narrow tapes to mark the lines, and hurried 
out-of-doors laden with net and rackets. 


r 


CHAPTER VII 


WE ALL WEAR WHITE 

The afternoon passed quickly in the making of 
the tennis-court, and in playing a few games, for 
without back-stops, as Mary Alice said, the games 
turned into a running-match. 

It was nearly supper time when they heard Miss 
King’s car coming up the lane. As she drove 
around to the garage Joan noticed that the car 
was old, as well as noisy, and she wondered why 
Miss King did not get a new car, since this one 
must need a lot of attention and Mary Alice had 
said that she took care of it herself. 

When Miss King put the car in the garage, the 
girls stopped their tennis game and helped her 
carry her purchases into the house. Then they 
went up-stairs to change their dresses before 
supper. 

As Joan dressed very carefully, and put on a 
pretty blue-crepe frock, she would not admit even 
to herself why she chose her most attractive dress, 
although she knew deep down in her heart that 
it was for Miss King. 


86 


WE ALL WEAR WHITE 


87 

“ Still, if all the days in Kansas are like this 
one,” she continued her thought aloud, it will be 
lots of fun, and the six months will go fast.” 

“ What did you say? ” Mary Alice called from 
her room. But Joan was saved from answering 
by Mary Alice’s appearance in the doorway. 

Oh, what a lovely, lovely frock! We’ll have to 
use the front stairs to-night to live up to our ap¬ 
pearance! ” 

Supper was a lively affair, starting with Mary 
Alice’s mock confession of browbeating Mrs. Old¬ 
ham into giving them a sheet to tear into shreds 
for their tennis-court. Even Mrs. Oldham smiled 
as Mary Alice pictured her meekly rifling the 
linen closet at their command. 

But that,” went on Mary Alice, “ isn’t the 
worst thing we have done to-day. After we got 
the court made and the net tied between a maple- 
tree and the shutter of the library window, we 
started to play. We got on beautifully for a time, 
winning a game apiece, and were starting on the 
third, when Joan caught her toe under the tape 
and fell down. She skinned her elbow, got a grass 
stain on her middy, and insisted that the tape 
idea was a complete failure! ” Mary Alice paused 
for breath and a bite of baked ham. 


88 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Miss King was not even trying to eat, but just 
sitting back in her chair and laughing. “ It is 
like old times to have these girls here, isn’t it, 
Mrs. Oldham? ” She spoke spontaneously, and 
seemed to realize afterward what she had said, 
for she grew sober and quiet all at once. Mrs. 
Oldham, instead of answering, got up hastily and 
went into the kitchen. Joan watched them in 
amazement, but Mary Alice went on with her 
story. 

When Joan refused to play with the tape, we 
had to sit down and think of a way out of the 
difficulty. Finally we decided flour would do, 
but we peeked through the kitchen window and 
saw Mrs. Oldham furiously stirring up a cake, 
with a butcher-knife and two rolling-pins lying 
beside her; so we decided that that was a poor 
idea after all.” 

The white, hard expression was leaving Miss 
King’s face, and as Mary Alice finished she was 
laughing again, but with a little more restraint. 
Then Mrs. Oldham came in from the kitchen with 
a plate of biscuits, and Joan wondered if she had 
been mistaken in thinking that the housekeeper 
left the room to avoid Miss King’s question. 

After we decided not to use flour,” the irre- 


WE ALL WEAR WHITE 


89 


pressible Mary Alice went on, we thought we 
would forage around and find something else. 
Sure enough, in the very first shed we entered we 
discovered a tub of thick, white liquid in a perfect 
state of existence for our purpose. And in the 
same shed we found a funnel and a tin can, and 
now you should see our tennis-court! 

“ I hope,’^ Mrs. Oldham said abruptly, “ that it 
wasn’t the funnel that I use to fill the coal-oil 
stove.” 

I only hope,” laughed Miss King, “ that it 
wasn’t the funnel that I use to pour water in the 
car-engine.” 

“It wasn’t either of those, I’m sure,” Joan 
hastened to say, “ for it was all rusty, and we 
found it in a pile of junk.” 

“ Well, I’m sure that I don’t keep my funnel in 
a pile of junk,” Miss King said; “and knowing 
Mrs. Oldham’s cleanly habits, I am sure that she 
doesn’t either. But I can’t imagine what you 
found to mark the court with.” 

“ It was in a tub,” Joan answered, “ and it was 
white, and there was a lot of it, and we didn’t use 
very much.” 

“ And it made the nicest white line you can 
imagine,” added Mary Alice. 


90 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


“ It was probably the whitewash Uncle Ben had 
mixed to paint the chicken-coops/’ Mrs. Oldham 
suggested with a ring of disapproval in her voice 
and a particularly energetic stab with a hairpin. 

Of course/^ said Miss King, smiling. 

“ Oh, I do hope it wasn’t anything valuable,’^ 
Joan ventured. 

Not in the least. It is just lime and water, 
I think,” Miss King reassured her. Only in the 
morning you must go down and make your peace 
with Uncle Ben. I’m just glad that you found 
something to do to amuse yourselves, while I had 
to be in town.” 

" Oh, it was lots of fun,” Joan answered eagerly. 

And we also had a lovely walk this morning.” 

Yes? Where did you go? ” 

‘‘We went to Mrs. Parrott’s after eggs,” Joan 
replied, just as she felt an energetic push from 
Mary Alice’s foot. 

“ Eggs? ” Miss King asked blankly. 

“ I sent the girls for eggs,” Mrs. Oldham in¬ 
terrupted hastily. “ I tripped on that board on 
the back porch this morning—I’ve been trying for 
two weeks to get Uncle Ben to fix it—and spilled 
all of ours. I needed some for the cake, and I 
sent the girls to Mrs. Parrott’s.” 


WE ALL WEAR WHITE 


91 


“ I hope you didn't hurt yourself? " Miss King 
asked kindly, but Mrs. Oldham was already half¬ 
way to the kitchen and did not reply. 

Joan watched with interest as she returned with 
a dish of marmalade, when there were two jellies 
already on the table. I'm sure now," she 
thought to herself, that Mrs. Oldham goes to 
the kitchen to avoid embarrassing answers." 

Miss King interrupted Joan's thoughts by say¬ 
ing abruptly: I have found something to-day 
that you may want to do, and it will be an in¬ 
teresting experience for you. I called to take 
Mrs. Theobald, the minister's wife, some fresh 
vegetables, and she said that they were needing 
more singers in the church choir, since three of 
their girls have gone away on summer vacations. 
I told her about you, Joan, and said that you 
might like to sing with them." 

“ Oh, do," Mary Alice cried. I sing in the 
choir, and it is lovely. Mr. Theobald himself 
coaches us, and he is such a kind, helpful 
director." 

I should like to sing in a church choir," Joan 
answered. It must make you feel a real part of 
the service, and not so much a spectator, like I 
have often felt in New York. I'm afraid, though, 


92 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

that I can^t sing well enough. I never have had 
any training; I just sing.’^ 

“ That doesn’t matter in a small town. If you 
are interested and willing, I know that they will 
be glad to have you.” 

I’m very interested and very willing,” smiled 
Joan. I’ll go to the first choir practice, if Mary 
Alice will take me, and see if Mr. Theobald thinks 
that I sing well enough.” 

I am sure that you sing well enough,” Miss 
King assured her. “ But Mrs. Theobald said that 
they were not going to have choir practice this 
week, because they are singing some well-known 
hymns next Sunday. She gave me. a hymn-book, 
though, and you and Mary Alice can go over the 
numbers.” Miss King hesitated and then con¬ 
tinued : There is a piano in the music-room, al¬ 
though I am afraid that it is sadly out of tune; 
it hasn’t been played since—for—for a long time.” 
For a fleeting moment Joan caught the hard ex¬ 
pression in Miss King’s eyes, and her thoughts 
seemed to be far away. 

I didn’t know that you had a music-room,” 
Joan exclaimed timidly, to attract Miss King’s 
attention. 

Why, yes,” Miss King replied rather vaguely, 



WE ALL WEAR WHITE ” 


93 


her mind evidently still on other things. It^s 
really just a big living-room, but I have had it 
locked up for a long, long time. The library 
serves me for a living-room; I don't have much 
company any more." 

As she paused Joan could find nothing to say. 
Finally Miss King went on dreamily: ‘‘No, I 
don't have much company any more, but three 
generations of Kings have lived in this house, and 
it has been the scene of a great deal of entertain¬ 
ing during its time. But the library is very 
gloomy," she said with more of her old abrupt¬ 
ness, “ and the music-room is sunnier and 
brighter, and I am sure that you girls will like it 
better. As soon as we can, Mrs. Oldham and I 
will open and air it, although, as I said, the piano 
is not in tune." 

“ Oh, we'll manage, Miss King," cried Mary 
Alice. “ I am so glad to have Joan in the choir, 
and I know that she will like it. And she will 
meet a very nice group of young people from the 
college summer-school, too." 

“ I'll be glad of that," Miss King replied, “ for 
I am so afraid that Joan is going to be lonesome 
in Kansas." 

Oh, Joan," Mary Alice continued, “ did you 


94 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

bring a white dress with you? We all wear 
white.’’ 

Why, no,” Joan answered blankly. I 
haven’t had a white dress for years.” 

You haven’t? ” Mary Alice cried in amaze¬ 
ment. 

“ No,” Joan repeated, and then felt that she 
must go on and explain. “ You see, we don’t 
have a car, and when we don’t take a taxi we ride 
on the subway. And wearing a white dress on a 
subway is about the same as walking in one on a 
dusty road, and the results would be similar, I 
am sure.” 

“ I never thought of that side of it,” replied 
Mary Alice. ‘‘ That’s too bad, because if you 
sing in the choir, you will have to have a white 
dress. We have been wearing white all summer. 
You see, before we settled on a definite color, 
everybody wore what she wanted to, and there 
was always a conglomeration of green and red and 
rose-pink and yellow, and the general ensemble 
took away from the effect of the new stained-glass 
window! ” 

‘^Oh, Mary Alice,” remonstrated Miss King, 
although she was smiling at the girl’s fun. 

'"Well, you must admit, Miss King, that the 


WE ALL WEAR WHITE 95 

colors were always a mixture, particularly since 
there are so many young people in the choir/’ 

All this time Joan had been sitting very quietly 
and very miserably at her place. “ I shall not 
be able to sing, then, I guess,” she said in a low 
voice. 

Oh, Joan,” Mary Alice cried, turning to her, 
I noticed the other day that Boone’s Dry Goods 
Store had some dresses for sale. There were sev¬ 
eral plain, white-silk crepes among them. You 
are so nice and slender that I am sure you can 
find one that will fit you.” 

And the sale is still going on,” Miss King con¬ 
tributed. I purchased some things there to-day. 
We can go to town some time before Sunday and 
you can look at the dresses.” 

Every one waited for Joan to speak, and she 
grew more uncomfortable and more miserable as 
the silence continued. Suddenly she knew that 
there were tears of wounded pride and unhap¬ 
piness coming to her eyes, and she pushed back 
her chair, stood up, and blurted out, I—I can’t 
afford a dress.” Then she ran from the room. 

She hardly drew a breath until she was up¬ 
stairs and in her own cozy pink-and-white room. 
Once there, she flung herself on the bed and cried. 


96 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

She knew that she had no reason to be quite so 
upset, but sitting at the supper-table with three 
complacent faces waiting for her to say that she 
would buy an expensive white frock when she had 
only a little pocket-money, had been a severe 
trial to Joan’s pride. Then, too, the incident had 
made her feel so alone, without her father and 
mother to lean on, that she could not restrain the 
tears. 

‘‘ Six months is a long, long time,” she was 
sobbing to herself, and did not hear a gentle tap 
at her door. 

Then Miss King opened the door quietly and 
sat down beside Joan. After a few minutes she 
spoke softly: Joan, dear, Mary Alice and I are 
very sorry. We didn’t realize that we were being 
thoughtless, and we didn’t mean to hurt 
you-” 

Joan was so tired of being brave all by herself, 
and it was so nice to have some one patting her 
hair and sympathizing with her, that she blurted 
out a lot of things that she had meant never to 
tell any one. 

‘‘ Daddy didn’t have much money to give me, 
and he didn’t want to borrow any money because 
he might not—not get well,” she sobbed. 



WE ALL WEAR WHITE 


97 


Mother and I cleaned all of my things, and 
decided that I could get along until Christ¬ 
mas - 

And you can, Joan. Your frocks are lovely, 
and you have plenty of them. This little blue 
dress you have on is very becoming to you.^^ 

Do you like it? Joan whispered, raising her 
head. I—I didn’t know whether you did or 
not.” 

It’s very hard for me to say things like that, 
Joan; you will have to learn to read my thoughts. 
But I have liked all your neat little frocks, and 
it was very thoughtless of me to suggest that you 
buy a white dress, but I didn’t understand the 
situation. You see, your mother and I haven’t 
been corresponding very much, and I had for¬ 
gotten—though I certainly should know ”—Miss 
King’s voice became a little bitter—that situa¬ 
tions change with the years.” 

Then she began to ask about the places Mrs. 
Kellogg was going to see in Europe, and soon Joan 
was telling her of her mother’s friends whom Miss 
King had known when she was in Mrs. Haddon’s 
School, and they were very chummy and comfy 
on the big bed. 

‘‘And to think that little red-headed Alice 



98 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Moore has twin boys entering Dartmouth this 
year! Miss King exclaimed finally. ‘‘ It doesn’t 
seem possible. And Mary Erwin’s daughter is 
going to Paris to study art. I remember how 
Mary used to entertain us with sketches of all 
our teachers! ” 

Miss King’s voice faded away, and when she 
spoke again it was dreamy and low. It all 
makes me seem dreadfully alone, Joan. It would 
be so nice if you would call me Auntie May. I 
. know I’m rather grim and old to be the right sort 
of auntie, but I should love it, for it would make 
me feel that I belong to somebody. Once I 
thought I might be called Auntie May sometime, 
but I—was mistaken.” 

Oh, Miss King, I should love to call you 
Auntie May,” Joan whispered back, squeezing 
Miss King’s hand happily. I’ve been wrong to 
think that Miss King was cold and haughty,” she 
lectured herself. Why, she was just lonely with 
only a housekeeper for company.” 

But Miss King, after her last words, had sud¬ 
denly changed. We will see about it,” she an¬ 
swered Joan brusquely, and stood up. “ Mary 
Alice is waiting for you in the library.” And she 
abruptly left the room. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE CHIPPENDALE DESK 

As the door closed behind Miss King, Joan 
gasped with surprise. The sudden change in the 
older woman was so great that the girl knew she 
had not imagined it, but she was at a loss to ex¬ 
plain it. 

What did I do? she moaned. Or rather I 
didn’t do anything. I just said that I should love 
to call her Auntie May. She had asked me to, 
and she didn’t expect me to refuse, did she? ” 

For a long time Joan sat on the bed, puzzling 
over Miss King’s attitude. Having decided, to 
her own satisfaction, that it could not have been 
anything she said or did, she began to lopk further 
for motives. She remembered Miss King’s 
words, Once I thought I might be called Auntie 
May sometime, but I—^was mistaken.” She 
wondered if those words had any connection with 
Miss King’s remark at the supper-table about the 
gayety of Mary Alice reminding her of old times. 

It is something that happened long ago,” Joan 

decided, but I’m sure that it doesn’t concern 

99 


100 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


me, and cannot be the reason that she doesn^t 
like me/’ 

Joan felt very miserable to think that Miss 
King did not like her. She was conscious of the 
fact that she was in Kansas because she had no 
other place to go, and if her mother’s old friend 
didn’t like her and didn’t want her, her position 
was unpleasant indeed. 

I mustn’t let Mother know,” she finally con¬ 
cluded. But what am I going to write to her 
to-morrow? She wants to hear all about her old 
chum, and—and how I like her. Well, I’ll try 
to like her, although it is hard to like any one who 
doesn’t like you or want you.” 

Then Joan got up to wash her face and brush 
her hair. She straightened the blue dress and 
went slowly down-stairs to the library. She 
hadn’t seen Mary Alice since she had run from the 
table, and she dreaded the meeting, but Mary 
Alice, also a little embarrassed, ignored the affair 
altogether. 

The two girls were alone in the library, and 
Mary Alice began immediately, ‘‘ Joan, do you 
remember the books in the mill-room? ” 

Joan nodded, a little afraid to trust her voice 
just yet. 



THE CHIPPENDALE DESK 101 

'' Do you suppose they came from this 
library? 

Why—I don’t know,” she answered vaguely, 
looking around the room. 

The library was a gloomy room, because it had 
only one high south window, half hidden in the 
recesses of a deep window-seat, and further con¬ 
cealed by dark-red draperies. The only light 
came from a floor-lamp with a red-brown shade. 
The room felt crowded, too, because book-shelves 
and bookcases covered almost every inch of wall- 
space in a haphazard way, as if it had started out 
to be an ordinary room and the owner had added 
shelves and cases as he had accumulated books. 

Of course,” Joan said, there could be an 
arm-load of books missing here and we should 
never know it.” 

That’s true enough,” Mary Alice admitted. 

I guess that my idea wasn’t worth anything.” 

Joan had wandered towards the window-seat 
and was now curled up on its comfortable pillows. 
Mary Alice joined her, and they pulled the 
draperies so that they were almost concealed in 
their little nook. There they sat, whispering 
softly, until, in a pause, they noticed the light of 
the room grow brighter as the door into the din- 


102 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


ing-room opened cautiously. Startled, both girls 
shrank back farther into the shadow and peered 
towards the door. 

It was opening slowly, but they could not see 
who was back of it until Mrs. Oldham stuck her 
head in, and, overlooking the girls in their dark 
corner, stepped quickly into the room. She stood 
there for a moment, listening intently, with her 
eyes raised towards the ceiling, as if she thought 
Miss King and the girls were up-stairs. Then she 
went to a desk against the side wall, entirely out 
of Joan’s range of vision and nearly out of Mary 
Alice’s. 

Joan did not dare move, and she could only 
watch Mary Alice’s face in an agony of suspense. 
Surprise was written there, and amazement. 
Then a baffled expression came, and Mary Alice 
leaned forward hastily, evidently unable to see 
something that interested her very much. But 
her haste was injudicious and she lost her balance, 
tumbling out of the window-seat with a dull thud. 

Joan sprang out and looked towards Mrs. Old¬ 
ham. The housekeeper was standing with her 
back to the desk, and her face was pale. She 
started to speak once or twice, and finally said, 
** What were you girls doing there? ” 



Mary Alice leaned forward hastily .—Page 102 , 










I' . 




M 






' 1 <u . 

fl-'* ( 


. r 


' ' . rf--^ < • . 




* ' * 4 « - *' # ■ ' - “? 


' ■’•« *., ■ • 

* ■ ■ ' ’v. ■ 

5f-Sr :'■• ■., * - -, -• _.^ 




■ - I.--. \' -•.■■ ■ ■'■ f.- 

■■■ ■”- ' ■ ■. ^ 

"*- .:w ■ - 

V .# ^.--** ' V i'V • 

. ’ • . ^ZL- • 'f 1 . -.' ■ 





-;/?V '' W^'>- 

^■■' .9 . 


i.„ . 

^a.- ■ • i.. * ‘A> 

■R- fi*' ,■ ‘ T 

li _• ? ♦ vSu- 



k-''-® 

_ r-'- '-‘OV tt V'-- ■ 






n 

^ ' 


- : 


i 


- '' '’-■ 


. ^^■’ . - - - . ... «/.'■■••. .‘ ... '.i >c-'.„'-. i. - *. tpilL ^ 

t m, f - "* - i» I JW 'l^ V •%. ' . - - ■ , 8^ -;• 4 

t' .’ •■. >- *•-■'»'.■ •..■>' = •* -iV- 

V / ■ • . . _ . .,, , .- 

■'- . ■ '• " . ••.'■.V*, *3 ,?i-#«jaii» i3ffi'-■''5; X*' '■ *' / o r 

(j,.‘\ ■•'■. : . "■■’ '^jiiy,-■ ■- ■ ■ ■ '■■ 

'* M-. 


:i"‘ , 




k '^' *^i% 





1 •> 




• -.f.* • 


3 - 


THE CHIPPENDALE DESK 


103 


Joan could think of nothing to say in reply, 
without admitting that they had been watching, 
and she was reluctant to do that. 

‘‘ My, how you startled me,Mary Alice cried, 
getting up from the floor and rubbing her elbow. 

Joan and I didn’t hear any one come in.” 

“ No, we didn’t hear any one,” Joan admitted 
to herself; but we saw some one.” 

You mean that you just looked up and saw 
me? ” Mrs. Oldham asked eagerly, evidently 
anxious to know if the girls had seen her sneaking 
through the door. 

But Mary Alice was saved answering by the 
appearance of Miss King at the hall entrance. 

Why, what’s the matter? ” she exclaimed as 
she came into the room. Are you—quarrel¬ 
ing? ” 

Oh, no,” Mary Alice answered. I fell out 
of the window-seat and scared Mrs. Oldham and 
myself, too.” 

“ But you quite obviously are not hurt. Why 
should Mrs. Oldham be scared? ” 

That wasn’t it,” interrupted the housekeeper. 

I came in to look at the marketing-list I gave 
you after dinner, to be sure that I had put on— 
soap; and as I was looking in the desk for it, I 


104 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

heard an awful crash behind me. I didn’t know 
any one was in the room, and the girls had not 
heard me come in, so when Mary Alice saw me it 
startled her. That was the way it was.” 

I should think you both had a right to be 
frightened,” Miss King said genially, and went 
over to the desk and took a slip of paper from one 
of the big drawers. No, there is no soap on this 
list,” she said to Mrs. Oldham. But I thought 
we got soap last Saturday? ” 

Oh, that was soap/’ said the housekeeper, 
pausing in the dining-room door. I really 
meant to say that I needed a package of soap- 
chips tO' wash out some colored pieces.” And she 
departed hastily. 

As Miss King stood by the desk, Mary Alice 
moved over to her side. 

What a fascinating old desk! ” she said. It 
must be very old, isn’t it. Miss King? ” 

Joan drew close, too, and looked at the desk with 
interest. It was a huge affair of dark old ma¬ 
hogany, like so much of the furniture in the house. 
To Joan it seemed to be a combination desk and 
bookcase, for there were a number of drawers in 
the lower part, below a writing-desk that let 
down, while above were glassed-in book-shelves. 


THE CHIPPENDALE DESK 


105 


“ It is very old/^ Miss King agreed with Mary 
Alice. My grandfather brought it from Charles¬ 
ton with him, and we think it came originally 
from England. In fact, my father was sure that 
it was a Chippendale bookcase-secretary, and he 
used to plan to bring a furniture expert here to 
see it, but he never did. He was very much at¬ 
tached to the old desk, though,^^ Miss King 
finished softly, and even if it isn’t a Chippen¬ 
dale, it is very valuable.” 

I studied a little about furniture in home- 
decoration in high school,” Mary Alice said. I 
was very much interested in it, but I never had a 
chance to see anything really antique.” 

“ Then you may want to see the inside of this 
desk,” Miss King answered, and let down the 
writing-desk. Since I have my own desk up¬ 
stairs, I never use this one, and it is quite empty. 
Besides, it was my father’s and—and it has never 
been used since his death.” 

Joan peered over Mary Alice’s shoulder. She 
saw an intricate arrangement of little and big 
pigeonholes, and in the center a large one with a 
door. This door had a tiny gold lock on it, in 
which was a fat gold key. 

1 use the drawer below for my household ac- 


106 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


counts, but, as I said, I never use the desk itself,” 
Miss King repeated and turned away. 

I am going to read a while,” she said as she 
selected a book from a shelf. If you girls care 
to read, you will find a great variety in these 
cases.” 

Do you have a book on home-decoration? ” 
asked Mary Alice as she still stood by the desk. 

Home-decoration? Why, no,” laughed Miss 
King. You must remember that this is not my 
library, but my father’s. Only one or two shelves 
here contain books of mine. I’m sorry, but 
won’t a volume of Dickens or Scott do instead? ” 

It doesn’t matter,” Mary Alice replied. 

Only I thought I would read about Chippendale 
desks.” 

“ You are interested in furniture, aren’t you? 
Well, if you will look in that farthest case, you 
will find a big book on furniture. Father used to 
read it and try to figure out what period his furni¬ 
ture belonged to. I remember now that he said 
that there was only one thing that made him 
doubt that this desk was a Chippendale, but that 
was when I was young and didn’t care whether it 
was or not. Perhaps you can discover what that 
thing is.” 


THE CHIPPENDALE DESK 107 

‘‘ Maybe we can/^ cried Mary Alice enthusiasti¬ 
cally. “ Come on, Joan.’’ 

Soon they were again established in the win¬ 
dow-seat, with the bulky old book lying on their 
knees. 

Joan, however, was not interested in the book. 

Do you think that Mrs. Oldham was telling the 
truth about the soap-chips f ” she whispered to 
Mary Alice. 

Mary Alice was engrossed in the book’s index 
and didn’t answer. 

Miss King believed it,” Joan went on. “ But 
Miss King didn’t see her sneak through the door. 
Mary Alice, do answer me; I want to know if you 
think Mrs. Oldham was looking for the shopping- 
list.” 

I know she wasn’t,” Mary Alice whispered 
back. 

How do you know it?” cried Joan, almost 
speaking aloud in her amazement. 

“ Because she wasn’t opening the drawer that 
Miss King said she used for keeping her house¬ 
hold accounts. She was letting down the desk.” 

Oh-h,” breathed Joan, and then added in dis¬ 
appointment, ‘‘ But, Mary Alice, the desk was 
empty.” 


108 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


Mary Alice had found the page that she 
wanted, and was reading rapidly. 

How dumb of me,’’ Joan went on. She 
was looking for something that was in that 
pigeonhole with the locked door, wasn’t she, 
Mary Alice? ” 

I don’t think so,” said Mary Alice, because 
the lock on that door is evidently broken. When 
Miss King let the desk down the door jarred out 
and swung open a little, and I saw that it was 
empty, too.” 

“ Well, then, we are all wrong,” Joan concluded 
in disappointment. No one would be secretive 
about opening an empty desk.” 

“ Don’t be too sure,” Mary Alice said trium¬ 
phantly. ‘‘Read this!” 

Joan bent over and followed Mary Alice’s 
finger, as she read: 

“ In the picture on page 153 you may see the 
two carved panels which conceal the customary 
secret receptacles of the Chippendale desks.” 

“Secret receptacles,” whispered Joan, and she 
leaned out of the window-seat to look at the desk 
which was still open. “ Oh, Mary Alice, there 


THE CHIPPENDALE DESK 109 

they are: a little panel on each side of the locked 
pigeonhole! ” 

I am going up-stairs, girls,’’ Miss King inter¬ 
rupted. I will see you before you go to bed.” 
And she left the room. 

“ Mrs. Oldham was going to look in them for 
something,” cried Joan, and ran over to the desk. 

Or maybe she was going to put something in 
them. Did she have anything in her hand? ” 

I didn’t see anything,” Mary Alice answered, 
studying the little carved panels that merely 
seemed a decorative touch in the intricate ar¬ 
rangement of drawers and compartments. “ Let’s 
look in these secret receptacles, shall we? We 
know that Miss King doesn’t have anything in 
them, and since Mrs. Oldham lied to Miss King, 
it may be something that Miss King should 
know.” 

I think we ought to find out,” Joan said 
thoughtfully. She put out a tentative finger and 
poked one of the panels. But, Mary Alice, how 
do these things work? ” 

Why,” said Mary Alice vaguely, there is a 
spring somewhere.” 

“ Well, it’s well concealed,” said Joan, investi¬ 
gating the compartments around the panel. 


no THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

though of course it would be, since these are 
secret drawers/^ 

For several minutes the girls investigated the 
desk, but the empty pigeonholes baffled their 
efforts. They worked longest on the one with 
the door and lock, but it, too, was bare, and they 
were not able to manipulate the key or lock in any 
way that stirred the panels. 

How exasperating,’’ Joan finally exclaimed. 
‘‘ To know that the secret places are there, but not 
to know what is in them. Or, Mary Alice,” she 
cried suddenly, I’ll bet that there aren’t any 
secret receptacles back of these little panels. Do 
you remember what Miss King said about her 
father having one reason to think that this desk 
was not a real Chippendale? Well, I’ll bet this is 
the very reason; the panels are not secret panels 
at all! ” 

Oh, Joan,” Mary Alice wailed, I’ll be so 
disappointed. But I won’t give up the idea yet,” 
she concluded stubbornly, “ because if there isn’t 
a secret place, what was Mrs. Oldham looking 
for? ” 

I don’t know,” said Joan abstractedly, bend¬ 
ing close to inspect the carving on one of the 
panels. “ Look, Mary Alice, there is a tiny crack 


THE CHIPPENDALE DESK 


111 


running right along by the edge of this design. 
If we could stick something through it, we might 
be able to tell if there was a space behind the 
panel.” 

Of course we could,” cried Mary Alice. 

What shall we use, a knife? ” 

But we can't get a knife unless we go to the 
kitchen where Mrs. Oldham is. Let's try a piece 
of paper.” 

Before she had finished Mary Alice had torn a 
page of advertising from a magazine on the table. 
She tore a long narrow strip from this, and began 
to urge one end into the crack. For a minute it 
refused to go, and then slid easily through the 
crack until Mary Alice was holding to the very 
end of it. 

She looked at Joan triumphantly. “ There's a 
secret place back of that panel. But how are we 
going to get to it? ” 

I don't know,” Joan began in perplexity, and 
then finished hastily: Oh, Mary Alice, we are 
so foolish. Let's read the book and find out how 
to open the panels.” 

“ The book?” 

“ Yes, the furniture book.” Joan closed the 
desk. 


112 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


“ Well, we are silly,” Mary Alice conceded, as 
she ran back to the window-seat and the bulky 
book. 

Several minutes of searching, though, did not 
reveal any information, so the girls read the en¬ 
tire chapter on Chippendale furniture, word for 
word. At the end they looked up in exaspera¬ 
tion. 

Outside of that one remark about ^ customary 
secret receptacles,^ there isn^t another word about 
them! ” Joan cried. 

That spring is there, and weVe got to find 
it,” Mary Alice said with determination. Let^s 
look again.” Then she paused, as she heard steps 
in the dining-room. 

Mrs. Oldham came in, and, Joan thought, 
looked at them very closely, but she only said, 
“ If you girls will take your books to your rooms 
to read, I can lock up and go to bed.” 

Of course,” Mary Alice cried, jumping to her 
feet. We are through reading for to-night any¬ 
way.” And she slipped the book into its shelf 
hastily. 

And we’ll help you lock up,” added Joan, re¬ 
solved that Mrs. Oldham wasn’t to have another 
chance at the desk. 


THE CHIPPENDALE DESK 


113 


The housekeeper did not thank them for their 
services, but bustled around the room, doing sev¬ 
eral rather aimless things. 

We’ll wait and go up-stairs with you,” Mary 
Alice suggested with a significant look at Joan. 
‘‘ This old house is lonesome at night.” 

Joan was sure that she saw a look of anger and 
annoyance in the housekeeper’s eyes, but she did 
not reply and only stalked out to the kitchen. 

The girls followed, close on her heels, and stood 
silently watching her lock the kitchen door. 
Then the trio proceeded gravely and quietly up 
the back stairs. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE WHITE-SATIN GIRL 

Good night, Mrs. Oldham.” 

The housekeeper went into her room on the 
opposite side of the hall from Joanns with an 
indistinguishable murmur. 

DonT close your door,” Mary Alice warned. 

Leave it partially open. After spending a good 
half-hour standing around in Mrs. Oldham^s way, 
so that she could not get to the desk, I don’t want 
her to have a chance to go back down-stairs now.” 

“ You are so thoughtful,” said Joan, smiling, as 
she left the door slightly ajar. 

Then the girls found their favorite places, Mary 
Alice on the bed and Joan on the rug, and looked 
at each other. 

Well? ” Mary Alice finally said. 

There isn’t any doubt in my mind any more,” 
Joan stated. ‘^We have found a full-fledged 
mystery.” 

It is a mystery, all right,” Mary Alice con¬ 
ceded,—every inch of one as far as I am con¬ 
cerned.” 


114 


THE WHITE-SATIN GIRL 


115 


Joan got up and took a sheet of stationery from 
her box. There must be some connection be¬ 
tween all these things,” she said decisively. 
“ Let’s make a list, and then maybe we shall see 
something logical about it.” 

Your idea is logical to start with.” 

Joan bent over the sheet of paper with her 
pencil poised. We ought to have a name for 
our list,” she decided. Shall I head it ‘ The 
Deep, Dark Mystery ’? ” 

Too trite,” Mary Alice instantly objected. 

Let’s call it the ^ Mystery of the Mill.’ No, that 
won’t do, because we don’t know how much of a 
part the mill is going to play.” 

I have it,” Joan cried. Let’s call it the 
* Mystery of Scared Acres,’ or, better yet, ^ The 
Secret of Scared Acres.’ ” 

Write it down,” Mary Alice commanded in a 
tone of satisfaction. And now for the list. Put 
the things down just as they happened.” 

Let’s start out with the name of the ranch 
itself,” Joan suggested. 

For a half-hour the girls worked, adding, cor¬ 
recting, reorganizing, until Joan’s last copy of the 
list lay before her. 


116 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


The Secret of Scared Acres 

1. Scared Acres. 

2. Makings of a Ghost.^^ 

3. Noises in the kitchen. 

4. Locked door. Miss King says that it has 

been locked for a long time. 

5. Rusty nail. 

6. Dozen-eggs errand. 

7. Hairpin on mill-stairs. 

8. New board on mill-stairs. 

9. Mill room. 

a. Clean sheets. 

b. Books. 

c. Tray of dishes. 

10. Miss King says that our gayety reminds 

her of old times. 

11. Mrs. Oldham seems fussed about egg- 

errand. 

12. Mrs. Oldham sneaks into library to desk, 
a. Presents soap-chips as an excuse. 

13. Secret panels of desk. 

“Look! Joan exclaimed as she read the list 
again. “ See how many of these items are con¬ 
cerned with Mrs. Oldham! Six, seven, c of nine, 
eleven, twelve, and thirteen; and three and five 
happened in the kitchen.’’ 


THE WHITE-SATIN GIRL 


117 


“ And the two items about Miss King both say 
something ab^ut a long time ago! Mary Alice 
added, kneeling by Joan’s side. 

Joan remembered another item that might have 
been included for Miss King,—the words “ Once 
I thought I might be called Auntie May some¬ 
time.” That, too, seemed to point to the past, 
but she did not add it to the list, for she did not 
feel that she could talk to Mary Alice about her 
relation to Miss King. 

Also,” Mary Alice said, Mrs. Oldham does 
not want Miss King to know what she is doing, 
but she evidently knows about Miss King’s ‘ long 
ago,’ for Miss King talks in front of her.” 

But I believe that there is some connection,” 
Joan cried excitedly, because when Miss King 
spoke to Mrs. Oldham about us girls reminding 
her of old times, Mrs. Oldham did not answer, but 
went to the kitchen. I was watching her, and I 
don’t believe that Mrs. Oldham wanted to talk to 
Miss King about those past days! ” 

The whole thing baffles me,” Mary Alice con¬ 
cluded. Do you suppose if we knew why the 
door to the music-room is locked, and who is liv¬ 
ing in the mill, and what is concealed in the desk, 
we should understand? ” 


118 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


“ Surely we should understand most of it/^ Joan 
said thoughtfully. Let’s find out about those 
three things first.” 

“ That’s easy to say,” Mary Alice demurred. 

But it will be a long time before I will venture 
up those mill-stairs again-” 

‘‘ Never,” interrupted Joan with a shudder. 
And Miss King is ever so nice, but she is 
so—so sort of reserved, that I don’t feel that I 
could ask her why she locked the door so long 
ago, could you, Joan? ” 

No,” Joan answered soberly. And we don’t 
want to ask Mrs. Oldham, because we don’t want 
her to think we suspect anything.” 

- “ Well, that leaves the desk. And the desk, 
being an inanimate thing, I am neither afraid of 
it nor awed by it. I think w^e may try to find out 
what is in those secret panels with some hope of 
success.” 

That, then, is our first aim,” Joan granted. 
“ When shall we start? ” 

The first chance we get in the morning.” 

At that moment there was a knock at the door. 
The girls looked at each other in surprise, and 
then Joan called, Come in.” 

Miss King entered quietly, and the girls 



THE WHITE-SATIN GIRL 119 

scrambled hastily to their feet. Her appearance 
was so unexpected that neither of them could 
think of a thing to say, and Miss King herself did 
not speak. She was carrying a long box under 
her arm, and she walked over to the table and put 
it down carefully. The box was yellow with the 
color of years, and the black ribbon that tied it 
fell apart when Miss King attempted to undo the 
knots. 

Joan grew more embarrassed as the minutes 
passed. She was in her own room, and she felt 
that courtesy demanded that she should greet 
Miss King in some way, but she could only re¬ 
member their last meeting in this room, and she 
did not know whether to call her guest Miss King 
or Auntie May. Miss King did not look so cold 
and stern now, for there was a dreamy expression 
in her eyes and her lips were softer, but still Joan 
could not forget her abrupt, brusque exit from the 
same room several hours earlier. 

How I like to be around when packages are 
opened,’’ she finally managed to say, and then in¬ 
stantly regretted the remark because it sounded 
so foolish. 

“ This one hasn’t been opened for a long time,” 
Miss King answered. “ But it contains a white 


120 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

dress—a white dress that perhaps we can fix for 
you to wear to church/^ 

“ Oh, how lovely, Miss^—Auntie—Miss King,’^ 
Joan stammered. 

Miss King took off the lid and stood looking 
silently into the box until the girls began to 
think that she had forgotten them. Finally, with 
a long breath, she drew forth a heavy brocaded- 
satin dress. It was a dress that just fitted into 
the pink-and-white room, and seemed to say, as 
it poised gracefully and gayly when Miss King 
held it up, This is my room; this is where I 
belong.’^ 

What a lovely dress,’’ Joan sighed in ecstasy 
as she looked at the puffy leg-of-mutton ” 
sleeves, the tiny waist, and the full gored skirt. 
She reached out her hand to touch the cobwebby 
lace that outlined the neck. Then suddenly she 
drew back as she remembered what Miss King 
had said about the dress. Under her miserable 
gaze it lost its fairly-like quality and became just 
a piece of heavy rich satin, slightly yellowed, that 
was not at all suitable for a young girl. The pert 
flounces of the skirt were just so many narrow 
gores that could not possibly be made into a 
straight one-piece dress for the modern Joan. 



THE WHITE-SATIN GIRL 


121 


Her thoughts must have been mirrored in her 
face, for suddenly she became conscious that Miss 
King and Mary Alice were watching her. 

“ No, it won’t do,” Miss King said. I can 
see that now, but I thought at first that we 
could make it over into a little dress to wear 
just for the church services.” She spoke wist¬ 
fully, and then added decisively, “ I had forgotten 
just what this dress was like, but I realize now 
that it belongs to another generation and is not 
at all suitable for Joan.” 

She put the dress back into its box and turned 
to leave the room, pausing only long enough to 
say abruptly, By the way, Joan, you will find a 
flash-light in the table-drawer. The electricity 
from Fame is not very dependable, and if there 
is a storm it is sure to go out.” 

Oh, thank you. Miss King,” Joan whispered, 
as Miss King went out, closing the door softly 
behind her. 

Joan continued to stand in the middle of the 
floor, looking at the closed door. She was miser¬ 
ably uncomfortable. The dress had not been 
at all suitable for her, but she had been very 
thoughtless to let Miss King read her mind. And 
she had been very ungrateful, too. Why, she re- 


122 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


membered with a gasp, she had not even thanked 
Miss King for offering her the dress! 

Joan took a few steps toward the door, wanting 
to run after Miss King and whisper how much she 
appreciated the fact that she had been willing to 
part with a cherished dress, but the lack of un¬ 
derstanding between them, and the fear of cold 
words from Miss King, held her back. She 
wavered, paused, and then stood still. 

Finally Mary Alice interrupted her thoughts by 
saying dreamily, The dress had been a wedding- 
dress, hadn’t it? ” 

“ Had it? ” Joan was glad of any diversion 
that would take her thoughts away from herself. 

It was white and satin, but I suppose all white- 
satin dresses aren’t wedding-dresses.” 

Of course not,” Mary Alice agreed. But 
there was a white-lace veil and two tiny white- 
satin slippers in the box. Can’t you imagine a 
slender, dark-haired girl wearing that lovely 
dress? ” 

But I don’t believe that Miss King’s hair was 
ever black, and we know that she was never mar¬ 
ried,” Joan objected. 

Mary Alice sighed. “ Oh, well, if you will be 
literal! Still, that was a wedding-dress. What 


THE WHITE-SATIN GIRL 123 

do you suppose happened that she never got mar¬ 
ried after all? 

In my opinion/’ Joan answered crossly, be¬ 
cause she still felt uncomfortable over the dress, 
in my opinion, that dress was never intended for 
Miss King. Girls wore their dresses quite long 
twenty-five years ago, when Miss King was young, 
and that dress would be about the right length on 
some one my height, not some one as tall as Miss 
King.” 

I never thought of that,” Mary Alice pon¬ 
dered. 

“ I know,” Joan cried, as she drew the list from 
her pocket where she had placed it at Miss King’s 
entrance. “ The girl who wore this dress belongs 
to the ‘ long-ago ’ items on this list. She it was 
who made this house gay and—and, Mary Alice, 
there is something else that I haven’t told you. 
But when Miss King came up to my room after— 
after supper, she said once she had expected to 
be called ‘ Auntie May.’ See how that fits in! 
The girl was going to get married in the white- 
satin frock, and Miss King had hoped that the 
girl’s children would call her aunt; but she didn’t 
get married, and Miss King was never ‘ Auntie 
May.’ ” 


124 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


The white-satin girl must have been Miss 
King^s sister, then,’’ Mary Alice decided. Did 
you know that Miss King had a sister? ” 

Why, no, I’m sure she didn’t,” Joan gasped. 
“ Mother never mentioned one, at least.” 

‘‘Moreover, where is the girl now? I don’t 
believe that your theory is right.” 

“ Perhaps she died, unexpectedly, on the eve of 
her marriage,” Joan defended her idea. “ That 
would fit in with Judd’s remarks about this place 
having the ‘ makin’s of a ghost.’ ” 

“ Yes, it would,” admitted Mary Alice. “ May¬ 
be you are right after all.” 

“ No, I don’t believe I am,” Joan suddenly dis¬ 
agreed with her own theory. “ I don’t believe 
that she died. You remember Miss King speak¬ 
ing about being reminded of other times by us 
girls, and also that the piano hadn’t been touched 
for many years? ” 

“ But that seems to point directly to the white- 
satin girl being dead.” 

“ No, you didn’t see her face. It got hard and 
dreadfully cold and proud. Surely, if the white- 
satin girl is dead, she wouldn’t act that way.” 

“ Of course she wouldn’t,” Mary Alice acqui¬ 
esced. “ And we are probably all wrong, anyway. 


THE WHITE-SATIN GIRL 125 

Moreover, it doesn’t help explain the person in 
the mill.” 

Or the rusty nail.” 

Or Mrs. Oldham.” 

‘^And let’s go,to bed,” Joan ended the colloquy. 
To-morrow we will investigate further.” 


CHAPTER X 


CONSUELO MAY OF SANTIAGO, CHILE 

Mary Alice, wake up! ” 

No, no/’ 

^‘Mary Alice, you must wake up.” Joan was 
determined, and she accompanied her words by 
a vigorous shake. 

Oh, all right.” Sleepily Mary Alice sat up 
and rubbed her eyes. She looked around vaguely 
and blinked at the pale light outside the window. 

Why, Joan,” she cried indignantly, it’s hardly 
daylight yet. What do you mean by waking me 
up? ” She flounced back on the bed and shut her 
eyes tightly. 

But listen to me, Mary Alice,” Joan begged. 

I’ve been thinking about the secret drawers of 
the desk. Mrs. Oldham can open them when she 
goes down to get breakfast.” 

Mary Alice opened one eye, but she did not con¬ 
descend to answer. 

'^And then if we ever find out how to get into 
them, there won’t be anything there.” 

“ You aren’t suggesting that we get up and go 

126 


CONSUELO MAY OF SANTIAGO 127 

down-stairs and help get breakfast, are you? ” 
Mary Alice moaned. ‘‘ Because if you are, you 
might as well go back to bed. After the way we 
haunted her last night, Mrs. Oldham would sus¬ 
pect us the very first thing/^ 

No,’^ laughed Joan. 1 am suggesting that 
we get up and play an early-morning game of 
tennis.” 

‘‘Tennis! How is that going to keep Mrs. 
Oldham out of the desk? I really think, Joan, 
that the early-morning air affects your mind.” 

“ Don’t you know, Mary Alice, that one end 
of the net is fastened to the library window-shut¬ 
ter? No one can come into the library without 
our knowing it.” 

“And no one will suspect a thing if we want to 
play tennis early,” Mary Alice agreed, as she 
scrambled out of bed. “ Joan, I withdraw all the 
cruel, heartless things I have said to you. You 
are a master mind! I’ll beat you dressing.” 

In a few minutes the girls had gone silently 
down the back stairs and let themselves out the 
back door. The morning air was fresh and soft, 
and the birds kept up a twittering, happy ac¬ 
companiment. 

“ This idea of a tennis game isn’t so bad all by 


128 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


itself,” Mary Alice admitted as she returned one 
of Joanns cut ” balls. 

Very soon they heard Mrs. Oldham in the 
kitchen, and saw her glance at them from the 
window. After that Mary Alice played close to 
the library. 

Once when she and Joan were together at the 
net she whispered, No one has been in the li¬ 
brary since we have been out here. Mrs. Oldham 
either noticed that we could see into the library, 
or she is in no hurry to get to the desk.” 

Sometime later Miss King came to the door 
and called them to breakfast. The crisp bacon 
and slightly-browned omelet tasted so good to the 
girls after their morning exercise that Joan said 
she thought Kansas eggs and bacon were better 
than the eggs and bacon of New York. 

That isnT it,” Mary Alice said. “ It^s be¬ 
cause you had a hand in getting these eggs, I 
imagine. ArenT these some we got from Mrs. 
Parrott’s yesterday, Mrs. Oldham? ” 

Why, I suppose so.” 

“ Oh, no, they couldn’t be, though. I forgot 
that you wanted those to bake a cake,” Mary 
Alice went on in an innocent voice. 

Mrs. Oldham hurriedly picked up the meat- 


CONSUELO MAY OF SANTIAGO 129 


platter and went to the stove for more bacon. 
Mary Alice grinned slyly at Joan. 

Then breakfast was over, and Miss King was 
saying: Oh, Joan, I have some mail for you. 

I had forgotten all about it. When I was in town 
yesterday I went by the post-office, thinking per¬ 
haps you might have a letter, and then I forgot 
to give them to you.’’ 

She took six identical little white envelopes 
from the kitchen-cabinet and handed them to 
Joan. 

Oh, they’re from the girls,” Joan cried ex¬ 
citedly. “ Isn’t it darling of them? ” She looked 
at each one, recognizing the handwriting. It’s 
Anne’s stationery; I just know they were all at 
her home for a slumber-party.” 

She looked up to find Miss King and Mary 
Alice smiling at her enthusiasm. 

Why don’t you use the Chippendale desk you 
girls like so well, to answer your letters, Joan,” 
Miss King suggested. I am sorry that I do 
not have a desk to put in your room.” 

I’d love to answer my letters from your desk,” 
Joan said. IJl put at the top of each one: 

At the Chippendale Desk, 

Scared Acres, Kansas. 


J 


130 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Doesn^t that sound impressive and-” Joan 

caught her words. She had started to say “ mys¬ 
terious,” but she substituted -and interest¬ 

ing?” 

She won’t want to use the desk until I get it 
cleaned up,” Mrs. Oldham interrupted harshly. 

Cleaned up? ” Miss King questioned. 

It’s dusty. I haven’t had time to clean the 
library this week.” 

Joan can dust it herself,” Miss King said, “ if 
she wants to use it.” 

“ Of course I can,” Joan cried, and took a dust- 
cloth from the holder. 

She and Mary Alice fled to the library and 
looked at each other radiantly. 

“What luck,” Mary Alice whispered. ‘‘We 
have the desk to ourselves for an hour anyway. 
If we can’t find the combination to the secret 
drawers in that time, we are poor searchers.” 

“ Will you run up to my room and bring my 
stationery and fountain-pen?” Joan asked. “I 
don’t want to leave the desk alone for an instant, 
for fear Mrs. Oldham will dart in.” 

Mary Alice came flying back in a few minutes, 
and Joan arranged her writing-materials and let¬ 
ters about the desk. 




CONSUELO MAY OF SANTIAGO 131 

‘‘ The girls’ letters are numbered on the back, 
so I’m only going to read one of them a day,” 
Joan decided, as she opened the first one. 

^^And I’ll be hunting while you read it,” Mary 
Alice agreed, as she began a study of the desk. 

The letter was full of the doings of Joan’s 
friends, but it did not cause her the unhappiness 
she had expected to feel when she left New York. 
In fact, the story of the slumber-party at Anne’s 
concerned itself mostly with the people in the 
apartment above rapping on the heat-pipes for 
the girls to be quiet, and sounded decidedly ordi¬ 
nary in comparison with the events that had 
taken place at Scared Acres in her two days there. 
Joan found herself glancing up repeatedly, to 
watch the progress of Mary Alice’s search. 

Joan, I simply can’t find the spring to open 
these drawers,” Mary Alice finally said, and Joan 
shoved her letters aside. 

We’ll have to find it now,” she declared. 

We’ll never have another chance like this.’^ 

“ It’s easy enough to say ^ have to,’ ” Mary 
Alice sighed. 

Joan leaned back in her chair and stared de¬ 
terminedly at the desk. ‘^You’ve poked and 
pulled everything,” she said. “ Now I’m going to 


132 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

sit and look at it, and maybe I shall see what you 
have missed.’’ 

There^was quiet in the library for a few min¬ 
utes, and then Joan leaned forward suddenly. 

Look, Mary Alice,” she pointed to the inch- 
thick board which formed the bottom of the row 
of pigeonholes that included the locked one and 
the two panels. None of the other boards is so 
thick. There must be a reason for this one be¬ 
ing so much wider, and the reason is-” 

“-that it conceals the springs,” finished 

Mary Alice, as she leaned close to the desk. 

And see, Joan, the board is not solid under this 
pigeonhole! ” 

Joan excitedly traced with her finger the tiny 
groove that showed that the bottom of the pigeon¬ 
hole was composed of two boards. She laid her 
hand flat on the bottom, and gently urged the 
top board forward. For a minute it resisted, and 
then slid slowly forward while the girls watched 
breathlessly. When the false bottom was nearly 
out, it would move no farther, and they trans¬ 
ferred their attention to the two springs that lay 
in the hollowed-out space of the thicker board. 

‘‘ You found them,” Mary Alice cried. “ You’ve 
got to press them.” 




CONSUELO MAY OF SANTIAGO 133 


Joan put her hand in cautiously and pressed 
the left spring. Slowly, grumblingly, the left- 
hand panel fell forward. It was warped from 
years of disuse, but finally it stood open, and 
the girls peered breathlessly into the narrow 
drawer that was revealed. It was empty! Mary 
Alice blew into it, and a cloud of dust came out 
and nearly choked her. 

“ Maybe,” she giggled in spite of her disap¬ 
pointment, maybe this was what Mrs. Oldham 
meant when she said that the desk needed dust- 
mg.” 

It^s just too exasperating,” Joan cried, 
wrinkling her nose at the empty drawer. “ After 
all, though, what did we expect to find? ” she 
sighed resignedly. 

Why, I expected nothing less than the jewelry 
of a princess,” Mary Alice stated. But why 
don’t you open the other drawer before you de¬ 
spair? ” 

In spite of her first disappointment Joan was 
breathless as the second drawer came open. And 
then she found herself staring in awe at a paper 
covered with dust, and looking almost parchment¬ 
like from age that had yellowed it. 

“ What can it be? ” she gasped. 


134 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


“ I don’t know,” Mary Alice answered solemnly. 

I just hope, though, that it doesn’t turn out to 
be a bill from the iceman that has got tucked 
away here.” 

I don’t believe it has been touched for years,” 
Joan said as she reached in and drew out the 
folded paper. “ Surely it has taken years for all 
this dust to get into these secret drawers.” 

Her fingers were trembling a little with excite¬ 
ment, and as she handed the paper to Mary Al¬ 
ice a small photograph dropped out. Mary Al¬ 
ice picked it up and saw a picture of a pretty 
little girl with black hair and laughing eyes. She 
must have been about two years old, and was 
dressed in quaint clothes that looked both old- 
fashioned and foreign. 

The words Consuelo May ” were written 
across it in a sprawling handwriting, and when 
the girls bent to read the photographer’s mark, 
they found a strange foreign name, and the ad¬ 
dress, Santiago. 

Santiago! Why, that’s in Chile! ” breathed 
Mary Alice. What does it mean? ” 

Maybe the paper will tell,” Joan answered, 
and spread it out carefully. It was a piece of 
plain paper, and there wasn’t a mark on it. 


CON SUE LO MAY OF SANTIAGO 135 

As they turned the picture and paper over and 
over in an effort to find some additional informa¬ 
tion they heard some one come into the dining¬ 
room from the kitchen. Mary Alice stuck the 
things into the secret drawer and hastily closed 
it, and shoved in the false bottom. Joan caught 
up her fountain pen and sat down at the desk in 
a writing pose, just as Mrs. Oldham came in the 
door. 

Joan was sure that the housekeeper looked at 
them very closely, and she furtively scanned the 
desk, to see if they had left any telltale signs of 
their discovery, but the old desk looked placid 
and undisturbed, and she was reassured. 

Miss King said when you had finished with 
your letters that she wants both of you to come 
to her room,^’ Mrs. Oldham stated. 

Oh, thank you,’’ Joan answered. She sat at 
the desk while Mrs. Oldham bustled around, 
straightening up the library-table and rearranging 
the chairs. 

In a few minutes it became apparent that the 
housekeeper did not intend to leave the room un¬ 
til they did; so Joan reluctantly shut up her sta¬ 
tionery-box and closed the desk, and arm in arm 
with Mary Alice went out of the door. 


CHAPTER XI 


UNCLE BEN IS EMPHATIC 

The girls ran hastily up the stairs and knocked 
at Miss King’s door. She called to them to come 
in, and they found her dusting a very plain, se¬ 
vere room. 

I just happened to think of the whitewash 
you used to make your tennis-court,” she said as 
she motioned to the girls to sit down. 

Oh,” murmured Joan in dismay. 

It doesn’t matter about the whitewash,” Miss 
King hastened to reassure her. But I think 
you should make your peace with Uncle Ben 
before he misses it.” 

This time it was Mary Alice who looked 
alarmed, and Joan remembered her vivid descrip¬ 
tion of Uncle Ben’s contempt of the automobile. 

Maybe he will resent our use of his whitewash,” 
she whispered to Mary Alice, just as he resented 
the automobile supplanting his team.” 

He won’t care,” Miss King was speaking. 

But Uncle Ben is getting old, and he is a little 

childish and finicky about his jobs around the 

136 


UNCLE BEN IS EMPHATIC 137 

place. You will find him living in a shack out by 
the stables.’’ 

Has he always been with you? ” Joan asked, 
interested in a servant who stayed a lifetime; her 
friends in New York were always getting a new 
one. 

‘‘Yes, Uncle Ben has always been with us. 
His father and mother came from Charleston with 
Grandfather King when Ben was a baby.” 

“ Were his parents slaves? ” 

“ Not exactly.” Miss King smiled at Joan’s 
interest. “ Grandfather King came from a slave¬ 
holding family, but he did not fully believe in 
slavery. He paid small wages to the negroes that 
worked for him, and they were free to leave. But 
in those days the free negro had an unpleasant 
life in most cases, and the ones that left my 
grandfather generally returned.” 

“And they came to Kansas with him? ” 

“A few of those that had been in his employ 
for a long time came.” 

“ Did your grandfather come here to this ranch 
the first thing? ” Mary Alice wanted to know. 

“As soon as he had looked around a little, he lo¬ 
cated here. Of course the original house was not 
as large as this one, and many of the stables and 


138 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


implement-sheds and negro-quarters that clutter 
up the place were added later/^ 

That must have been about Civil War 
times? Mary Alice went on, her face screwed 
up as she made a mental calculation with some 
remembered history dates. 

“Yes. And it was very hard for the people 
here to understand my grandfather’s attitude to¬ 
wards the negroes he had with him, and there was 
a lot of misunderstanding and trouble over them. 
But I must get on with my work,” Miss King 
broke off. “ There is a basket of cookies on the 
kitchen-table. Will you take them to Uncle 
Ben? ” 

The girls skipped down the stairs, found the 
cookies, and started out the back door. They 
walked slowly towards a cluster of little buildings 
grouped around the rambling old barn. 

“ Well,” said Mary Alice after a pause, “ we 
have found the secret of the secret panels. Do 
you feel that we know any more than we did be¬ 
fore? ” 

“ I hardly know,” Joan replied. “ Do you think 
Consuelo May is the white-satin girl? ” 

“ I think she may be,” Mary Alice granted. 
“ But why does Mrs. Oldham want to get the 


UNCLE BEN IS EMPHATIC 139 

picture out of the desk, when it has obviously 
been there for years? ” 

Maybe she had just discovered the panels 
herself/’ 

“ No, I don’t think so. I believe she knew what 
was in those secret drawers, and for some reason 
wanted it out, and didn’t want Miss King to 
know about it.” 

‘‘ I do wish the picture of Consuelo May had 
been a grown-up picture,” sighed Joan. ‘‘ I want 
to see her at the time she wore the wedding- 
dress.” 

By this time the girls had reached the group 
of buildings. Many of the sheds had fallen into 
disuse, and there were some decaying foundations 
where a few had been moved away. Only one 
showed any semblance of life, and since it had 
smoke drifting from the chimney, the girls de¬ 
cided that Uncle Ben lived there. They opened 
the gate in the little whitewashed fence that sur¬ 
rounded the shack and walked up the path. Mary 
Alice rapped on the door loudly, explaining that 
Uncle Ben was a little deaf. 

There was a shuffling inside and a fumbling 
with the latch; then Uncle Ben opened the door. 
He was a stooped and wizened little old man. 


140 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

with thin gray kinks over his head, a black wrin¬ 
kled face, and eyes that still rolled white and 
clear. He was wearing a clean pair of blue over¬ 
alls and a red calico shirt with a huge patch on 
each elbow, and held a broom in his hand. 

He blinked at the sunshine, peered at his visit¬ 
ors for a minute, and then cackled in a shrill 
voice, “ Why, it’s Mis’ Mary.” 

I’m glad you remember me,” Mary Alice 
spoke loudly and distinctly. ‘^And this is Joan 
Kellogg from New York. She is visiting Miss 
King, and will be here for several months, so she 
wants to get acquainted. But perhaps Miss King 
told you that she was coming? ” 

Jone Kellogg,” the old man said, beaming at 
Joan. I sho’ has heerd your last name a lot, 
honey. A long time ago, when Mister Phil King 
was alive, and Mis’ May. was in New York goin’ 
to that school, Mr. King he useter talk to me 
sometimes. When he was eatin’ a lonely Thanks¬ 
giving dinner—I was his butler then—^he’d jes’ 
pick at his food and say to me ‘ She’s eatin’ turkey 
with the Kelloggs now.’ Or on Christmas Eve 
he’d look at his big gold watch and say, ‘ She’s 
probably all dressed for the Kelloggs’ Christmas 
dance, Ben.’ ” 


UNCLE BEN IS EMPHATIC 141 

Phil King, Joan knew, was the morose, silent 
man her mother had said once visited Miss King 
in New York. He didn’t sound morose now, but 
just lonely and sad, and Joan wondered if it had 
always been the lot of the Kings to be alone in 
the world. 

Here I be, leavin’ you-all standin’ on my 
doorstep,” Uncle Ben exclaimed. I’ll jes’ bring 
you two chairs and set them here by my climbin’ 
rose-bush.” 

That will be lovely,” Mary Alice answered; 

and take these cookies that Miss King sent 
you.” 

Uncle Ben puttered around, bringing out the 
chairs and getting them in just the right place 
under the roses. Then he dusted them carefully, 
even the rungs, and at last motioned for the girls 
to sit down. 

Would you missies mind waitin’ jes’ a minute 
while I finish my sweepin’ ? ” he asked, his eyes 
twinkling. I am ’fraid I’ll forget jes’ how far 
I got my dust.” 

^^And you’d hate to sweep some that you had 
already swept,” Mary Alice finished for him. 

Uncle Ben, you are a sweeper after my own 
style! ” 


142 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


Uncle Ben went away chuckling, and the girls 
exchanged merry smiles. 

As Joan sat up stiffly in the erect little chair, 
she glanced around Uncle Ben’s domain. When 
he had opened the door to them, she had had a 
glimpse of a clean, neat cabin, and now the out¬ 
side of his house confirmed the impression. The 
low picket fence surrounding the house was in 
good condition, and the few flowers and vege¬ 
tables were in orderly beds. Not a dandelion 
stuck its impudent yellow face through the blue 
grass; not a weed crowded the bright-colored 
hollyhocks or elbowed the onions. Joan easily 
concluded that the house and yard were the pride 
of the old negro’s life. 

In a few minutes Uncle Ben came out of the 
house, carefully closing the door behind him, and 
sweeping off the flat rock that served as a porch 
or step before the door. He did not stop with 
the rock, though, but, to Joan’s surprise, swept 
the hard-dirt path that led down to the gate, 
making the twigs and dust fly to both sides with 
his energetic broom. 

Uncle Ben,” began Mary Alice as he came 
back after setting the broom carefully against a 
tree, “we came down to tell you that we used 


UNCLE BEN IS EMPHATIC 


143 


some of your whitewash to make ourselves a ten¬ 
nis-court. I hope you don^t mind. We—we have 
been afraid that you might be a little mad at us 
for using it without asking you.’^ 

Now, don’t you worry a minute, missies,” 
replied Uncle Ben, smiling at them both. 

If you will tell us how,” Joan added quickly, 
we will mix some to take the place of what 
we used.” 

“ You don’t want to get your nice white hands 
all messy,” the old negro chuckled. “ I don’t have 
much to do, and I can soon mix up some more. 
The hens can jes’ wait a day or two to get their 
houses painted.” 

That’s awfully nice of you,” Mary Alice went 
on engagingly. Do you do all the work around 
here yourself? ” 

There ain’t much work any more; not like 
it was in the old days, when Mister Phil King 
and his daddy was runnin’ the place. Not that 
I’m complainin’,” he added hastily. “ But Scared 
Acres was a big farm once, and there was a lot 
goin’ on all the time.” 

<< Bigger than it is now? ” cried Joan. Why, 
what happened to it?” 

It jes’ got sold, little by little. Now there 


144 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

ain’t nothin’ left but the house and the orchard 
and a little grazin’ for our cows and horse. The 
big pastures over there,” Uncle Ben waved his 
hand to the west, Miss King rents to a cattle¬ 
man down in Fame. But there was big doin’s 
here when Mister Phil and Miss King was raisin’ 
cattle for market.” 

Uncle Ben paused, and his wrinkled old face 
seemed to light up with the memory of the big 
doin’s ” of other days. 

Finally Mary Alice recalled him by asking, 
“ Did you say that you were Mr. King’s butler 
in those days? ” 

“Yes’m. I was always small, and never had 
to do much heavy farm work, but I worked in the 
house, takin’ care of Mister Phil’s clothes when 
he was a young man, and later I waited on him, 
too. But when Mister Phil got sick Miss King 
got a housekeeper and—and now I don’t do 
nothin’ but take care of the cows and chickens.” 
The old man’s voice quavered a little; evidently 
he felt chagrined at his fall from prestige, but he 
went on honestly: You see, I’m not much good 
any more, but I’ve always worked for the Kings, 
and they jes’ think of me as one of the fam’ly. 
Jes’ one of the fam’ly,” Uncle Ben finished, visibly 


UNCLE BEN IS EMPHATIC 145 

expanding with pride over his long regime with 
the Kings. 

^^And there isn’t any hired man but you?’’ 
Mary Alice persisted; and Joan realized that she 
was thinking of the room in the old mill, and 
searching for some explanation of its occupant. 

I’m the only man ’round the place, but I’m 
not a hired man,” Uncle Ben answered, obviously 
hurt. 

Oh, I’m so sorry. Uncle Ben,” Mary Alice ex¬ 
claimed contritely. I wasn’t really thinking of 
you as a hired man, but I didn’t know what else 
to call you.” 

Of course. Mis’ King takes care of me, and 
pays me a sal’ry, but I’m not a hired man; I’m 
one of the fam’ly,” the old man insisted, mum¬ 
bling a little. 

To divert his attention Joan quickly asked a 
question she had been pondering for some min¬ 
utes, You’ve been with the Kings so long that 
you must have known Consuelo—Consuelo 
May? ” 

What dat you say? ” he muttered quickly, 
peering at her from under his crinkly gray brows. 
“What you know ’bout her?” he went on, al¬ 
most threateningly. 


146 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Why—why nothing/’ Joan stammered, sur¬ 
prised at the instant response her chance remark 
had brought. That is, I just saw her picture.” 

“ Mis’ King didn’t show it to you? ” he asked 
in amazement. 

No,” Mary Alice interrupted. We found it 
in an old desk.” 

Well, let me tell you, missies,” the old man 
whispered, mopping his face with a blue-ban¬ 
danna handkerchief, don’t you eber say any¬ 
thing to Mis’ King ’bout her. It’s always been 
my idea that there wouldn’t never have been any 
trouble at Scared Acres if it hadn’t been for that 
black-haired witch, but of course I never told 
nobody what I thought.” 

But—^what about her? ” Joan cried, trying 
not to seem too eager. 

You’re better off without knowin’ nothing 
’bout her.” Uncle Ben shook his head decisively; 
and the girls knew that he was not going to tell 
them about Consuelo. 

^^And you think we had better not say anything 
to Miss King about her? ” Mary Alice asked. 

No, no, no,” he stammered excitedly. Don’t 
mention that black-haired witch’s name! If it 
hadn’t been for her, I would still be drivin’ Mis’ 


UNCLE BEN IS EMPHATIC 


147 


King to town when she wants to go, ’stead of her 
foolin’ with that new-fangled automobile. You 
see, Mis’ King she give us all orders never to 
mention her name again, or to tell any one ’bout 
her, and one day when I was drivin’ Mis’ King 
home from town I forgot. Mis’ King got whiter 
and madder all the way home, and when she got 
out of the carriage she says, ^ Ben, you are not 
to drive for me any more.’ And then for a while 
she drove her own horse, and for a long time she 
never spoke to me like one of the fam’ly, but or¬ 
dered me around like she did the servants. She’s 
proud. Mis’ King is, awful proud, and it was 
two or three years ’fore she forgot that I dis¬ 
obeyed her.” 

But-” Mary Alice began, when Uncle 

Ben interrupted: 

I’ve been talkin’ too much. I better go 
mend the barn fence,” he muttered, turning away. 

But please,” Joan cried, dismayed that he 
wasn’t going to tell them about Consuelo, but 
please. Uncle Ben, we would love to hear more 
about Consuelo and what she did.” 

'^You forget that I eber said anything ’bout 
her,” the old man insisted, looking at her angrily. 

You ought to be ashamed to come ’round here 



148 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


quizzin’ and makin’ an old man forget his prom¬ 
ise/' 

Joan was frightened by his vehemence. “ I'm 
sorry, Uncle Ben, we—we didn't mean- 

All right, all right," he broke in testily. “ But 
mind what I'm tellin’ you, missies, you better 
not mention her in front of Mis' King." 

He bustled away towards the barn, leaving the 
girls overwhelmed with amazement and curiosity. 

“ There was a Consuelo and her hair was 
black," breathed Mary Alice. She must Have 
been lovely in that gorgeous wedding-dress and 
soft veil." 

Uncle Ben called her a black-haired witch," 
Joan said. ‘‘ Maybe she wasn't pretty.” 

Oh, she must have been," Mary Alice cried. 

I'm going to think of her as pretty, anyway," 
she finished defiantly. 

“ So am I," agreed Joan. “ But what do you 
suppose she did that turned every one against 
her? " 

I can't imagine," Mary Alice answered, as 
they walked slowly to the house. “ But we evi¬ 
dently will have to find out for ourselves. Uncle 
Ben won't tell us, and he says Miss King will be 
angry if we so much as mention Consuelo's name. 




UNCLE BEN IS EMPHATIC 


149 


And we don't want to ask Mrs. Oldham, because 
we don't want her ever to know that we have 
heard of Consuelo." 

How are we going to find out? ” Joan cried, 
do so want to know all about her. Somehow 
I can't feel about her as every one else here does." 

Neither can I," agreed Mary Alice. 
“ Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could learn her 
story, and find that she was innocent of what¬ 
ever people think she had done? " 

Oh, wonderful," breathed Joan. ‘‘ And yet, 
after all these years," she added regretfully, I 
doubt if there is anything new to be learned about 
Consuelo and her troubles." 

Well, at least there is plenty to be learned 
about this place," Mary Alice decided. There 
is the person in the mill; we haven't found out 
a thing about him. I don't see, though, how he 
can be connected with Consuelo." 

I don't, either, but let's add our newest in¬ 
formation to our list, and aim next to discover 
something about the person in the mill." 


CHAPTER XII 


THE LIBRARY VISITOR 

The girls hiiirried back to the house, intent on 
adding to their list headed The Secret of Scared 
Acres.” They dashed into the kitchen, through 
the dining-room, and up the front stairs without 
seeing any one. Once in Joan’s room, they se¬ 
lected the facts about the picture of Consuelo and 
the information gained from Uncle Ben, and de¬ 
cided that the morning had been devoted to the 

long-time-ago ” group of events. 

Now it’s time to give some attention to the 
present situation,” Mary Alice exclaimed. 

^^As if what we decide will make any difference 
in what happens,” Joan laughed. 

Still, Joan, we went down-stairs this morning 
with the intention of discovering the secret pan¬ 
els, and we did, and found out a lot more about 
what they revealed.” 

“All right. Our aim now is Mrs. Oldham and 

the mill-person. Have you noticed, Mary Alice, 

that Mrs. Oldham seems to be the connecting 

link between the ‘ long-time-ago ’ part of our list 

150 


THE LIBRARY VISITOR 151 

and the present part? At least she is concerned 
with both/' 

“ So she is” Mary Alice commented. “ I think 
that is a good observation, Joan; it may help us 
a lot sometime." 

Why don’t you add," Joan rejoined, that it 
doesn’t help much now? " 

“ I really wouldn’t say such a thing about one 
of your thoughts," Mary Alice grinned, but I’m 
glad that you noticed it yourself." 

After a little more banter the girls went down 
the front stairs. Once at the foot, they decided 
they should go first to the kitchen, since they were 
now in pursuit of Mrs. Oldham. The kitchen 
was empty, though, and they drifted through the 
dining-room towards the library. 

Joan was in advance of Mary Alice, and just 
as she started to open the door she distinctly 
heard some one say, To-night at twelve." She 
drew back her hand in surprise, and looked at 
her friend. The latter was standing in the middle 
of the dining-room with amazement written on 
her face. It was several minutes before Joan 
could decide whether to knock, or merely to walk 
in, as they always did, and finally Mary Alice 
opened the door. 


152 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


Miss King was standing by the table in the 
middle of the room, and she looked up quickly as 
they came in. She seemed startled by their en¬ 
trance, and cleared her throat a little before she 
asked, “You must have had a long visit with 
Uncle Ben? 

“We did stay quite a while,” Mary Alice an¬ 
swered. “ He was telling us about his life spent 
working for the Kings.” 

“ You were gone a long time, if you just got 
back,” Miss King said again. 

“We have been back for some time,” Joan 
answered. “We have been up-stairs.” Joan felt 
very uncomfortable, because she knew that Miss 
King wanted to know how much of her conversa¬ 
tion they had overheard, but did not want to ask 
them. She tried to find words to tell her, and 
stammered, “We just came down-stairs-” 

She saw the relief that came into Miss King’s 
face, and saw that she thought the girls had heard 
nothing. Then Joan felt more uncomfortable, 
because she did not want to deceive Miss King. 
She tried to think of a casual way to add, “ And 
we heard you say, ‘To-night at twelve’ as we 
came in,” but the words sounded harsh and 
abrupt and suspicious. 



THE LIBRARY VISITOR 


153 


While she was still debating, Miss King spoke 
abruptly: I am going to drive Mrs. Oldham to 
her sister’s. The sister is ill, and Mrs. Oldham 
wants to do some baking for her and clean up the 
house. I told her last night to limit her bundles 
and bags, because I should like to take you girls 
along. But now that I think it over, I believe, if 
you don’t mind, that I will leave you here.” 

That is all right. Miss King,” Mary Alice 
answered. 

I hate to be gone so much when Joan has 
just arrived,” Miss King went on, but this will 
be a hot, dusty trip and you probably wouldn’t 
enjoy it, anyway. Moreover, as I seldom go into 
that neighborhood, I should like to take the 
opportunity to call on an old friend of mine who 
is an invalid. I don’t want to leave you sitting 
in the car, and I prefer not to take you into the 
sick-room. Are you sure that you can occupy 
yourselves here? ” 

Oh, yes,” answered Mary Alice. Don’t 
worry about us. Miss King. We will read for a 
while, and then perhaps we will play tennis.” 

And you are sure that you won’t be bored if 
you are left alone here so much? ” Miss King 
asked Joan. 


154 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


“ I’m sure we’ll not,” Joan answered, just as 
Mrs. Oldham opened the door and said briefly: 
“ I’m ready. Miss King.” Her quick eyes glanced 
at Joan and Mary Alice. Aren’t you girls ready 
yet? ” she asked, and her voice was censorious. 

The girls aren’t going,” Miss King replied. 

“ They aren’t going? ” Mrs. Oldham cried in 
dismay. Then she bit her lips in an effort to 
regain her self-control. She could not, however, 
keep from adding accusingly, But you said last 
night that they were.” 

Miss King looked surprised and displeased at 
Mrs. Oldham’s words. 

I have changed my mind,” she said coldly, 
and dismissed the subject by concluding, “ If you 
want to take your sister some canned peaches, 
there will be room in the back of the car now.” 

Before she had finished speaking Mrs. Oldham 
was half-way towards the kitchen, and Miss King, 
saying good-by to the girls, followed. 

Bored? ” ejaculated Mary Alice, sinking into 
a comfortable chair. “We are anything but 
bored.” 

“ Whom do you suppose Miss King was talking 
to when we came in? ” Joan whispered. “ And 
where did they go? ” 


THE LIBRARY VISITOR 


155 


‘‘You goose,” Mary Alice laughed, after a 
moment of surprise, “ she was talking over the 
telephone, of course.” 

“ Oh,” Joan said blankly, following Mary 
Alice’s gesture until she saw a telephone hung on 
one end of a bookcase. “ I never thought of the 
’phone.” 

“ I’m going to see if it is a party line,” Mary 
Alice continued, going over to the telephone and 
giving the bell a long, vigorous ring, followed by 
two short ones. After a minute she asked 
sweetly: “ Operator, can you tell me the time, 
please? Oh, thank you.” 

“ It’s a private line,” she added, coming back 
and perching on a chair. “ At least somebody on 
a party line always has a long and two shorts for 
a ring, but here the operator answered me.” 

“ I don’t see what you mean.” Joan was mysti¬ 
fied by phrases she had never heard before. 

“ In Kansas,” Mary Alice explained laughingly, 
“ eight or nine country ’phones will be on one 
line. Each has a different ring, so that you can 
talk to any one else on the same line by ringing 
their signal, without going through the central 
office. And of course on that sort of line the op¬ 
erator is one ring.” 


156 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

“ Oh, yes,’^ Joan replied vaguely. But what 
difference does it make whether this ^phone is a 
party line or not? 

‘^Just this—out here in the country you do 
not talk secrets over a party line, because some 
one is sure to be listening in.’^ 

‘'And you think Miss King was talking se¬ 
crets? ” 

“ Don^t you? 

“ I’m afraid so. ‘ To-night at twelve ’ doesn’t 
sound like customary conversation. And—and I 
think she was disturbed for fear that we had 
heard her when we came in.” Joan was reluctant 
to think that Miss King was trying to conceal 
something from them; it made any chance of 
friendship between them seem very, very remote. 

“ Do you think,” she went on earnestly, “ that 
we should not try to find out the mystery about 
this place, now? ” 

“ You mean-? ” 

“ Well, if Miss King is mixed up with it, I sup¬ 
pose we should not try to find out anything that 
she doesn’t want us to know,” Joan explained re¬ 
gretfully, since she hated the idea of not investi¬ 
gating the mystery so far as they could. 

“ I suppose we shouldn’t,” Mary Alice agreed 



THE LIBRARY VISITOR 


157 


mournfully. Of course/' she added hopefully, 
we are not sure that she is connected with 
everything that has happened." 

Puzzling over the situation, each girl chose a 
book and settled down to read. 

For a long time Joan was half-unconscious of 
what she read, thinking instead of the fascinating 
hints they had had of the story of Consuelo, and 
of the presence of a strange man in the mill, and 
of the meaning of the phrase ‘‘ to-night at 
twelve." Finally, though, she grew interested in 
the book she had, and read on and on. Once 
when she finished a chapter she raised her eyes 
as she turned the page, and, since she happened 
to be facing that way, looked directly at the din¬ 
ing-room door. 

The door was slightly open, and a man was 
peering through the crack straight at her! 

He was as surprised as Joan, and seemed trans¬ 
fixed until her book slid from her frightened fin¬ 
gers and crashed on the floor. Then with a bang 
he pulled the door shut, just as Mary Alice 
screamed and made a bound for the door. Joan 
was only a step behind her, the fact that the man 
ran giving them courage to pursue him. As the 
girls dashed into the dining-room they saw the 


158 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

swinging door into the kitchen still swaying back 
and forth. They rushed madly across the room 
and then suddenly grew frightened and hesitated. 
After a second they took hands with mutual con¬ 
sent and pushed open the door, knowing that if 
they hesitated longer their courage would fail. 

Their fears, though, were unnecessary. There 
was no one in the kitchen! Mary Alice ran to 
the pantry, and Joan to the back door. But the 
wire screen was latched, and, as she turned back, 
she readily saw in Mary Alice’s face that there 
wasn’t any one in the pantry. 

Of one accord they turned to the back stairs 
door, but that was fastened from the kitchen side 
and the key was still in the lock. Joan guessed 
that Mrs. Oldham had locked the door, for she 
had been locking it since the first day when the 
girls had started using the back stairs. She had 
said at the time that it blew open and made a 
draft in the kitchen, but the girls suspected that 
she didn’t want them bobbing unexpectedly into 
her domain. However that might be, Joan knew 
that they had exhausted the last way of exit from 
the room. 

He came into the kitchen,” Joan spoke for 
the first time since they had started the pursuit. 


THE LIBRARY VISITOR 159 

because the door was still swinging, but if he 
didn’t leave by the back door or up the stairs, 
and if he isn’t in the pantry-” 

I know,” cried Mary Alice, tears of excite¬ 
ment in her eyes, there must be a secret room 
here! ” 

There can’t be,” Joan disputed. The 

kitchen goes across the entire end of the house, 
and we know every inch of it.” 

Just the same, the man disappeared in a few 
minutes. Both doors are locked, the pantry is 
empty, and the window-screens are all fastened! 
Moreover, I know that there isn’t any trap-door 
into a basement, for I heard Mrs. Oldham grum¬ 
bling because there wasn’t any basement to keep 
her milk cool.” 

But there can’t be a secret place,” Joan re¬ 
iterated, stubbornly. The only possible chance 
would be some sort of connection with the locked 
room, and I don’t see how there could be any, 
with the stove and the cabinet and the pantry 
against the wall that joins it.” 

But you admit there’s a place big enough to 
hide a man,” Mary Alice argued, ‘^because we 
saw one come in here.” 

‘‘Yes,” Joan admitted, looking around fear- 



160 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


fully, “ and maybe he’s listening to us this very 
minute.” 

The thing to do,” Mary Alice continued, 
calmly ignoring her remark, is to measure the 
outside of the house and the length of the 
kitchen, and see how they compare.” She got a 
ball of twine from the cabinet and measured the 
length of the kitchen, marking the place with 
her finger. 

Then she started out the kitchen door, and 
Joan followed mechanically. 

“ There can’t be a secret room,” she protested 
for the third time. There is only the kitchen 
here.” 

Take this other end of the string to the edge 
of the house,” Mary Alice commanded, station¬ 
ing herself at one side and holding her finger and 
the twine to the corner of the house. 

Joan obeyed her, and started confidently to the 
opposite side, but soon stopped short. The 
twine would not reach by several feet! The girls 
stared at each other in amazement for a few 
minutes, and then Joan burst out laughing. 

“We forgot to measure the space in one end 
of the kitchen where the stairway and the fire¬ 
place and the pantry cut off part of it.” 


THE LIBRARY VISITOR 161 

So we did/’ muttered Mary Alice chagrined, 
and they went back into the house. 

I suppose, with the fireplace and the pantry 
and the staircase all grouped together, there 
might be a few inches of space unaccounted for,” 
Joan admitted. “ But I’m sure that what we are 
looking for is a secret exit, and not a secret 
room,—an exit that leads into the locked room, 
or maybe just out of doors.” 

Then they prowled around rather aimlessly for 
a while, sounding the walls and fioor, although 
Joan was sure that she could not tell when any¬ 
thing was wrong with them, despite the fact that 
Mary Alice kept telling her to listen for a hollow 
sound. They accounted, by aid of the string, for 
every inch of space in the pantry and the stair¬ 
way, and pushed and pulled on all the rough 
stones of the fireplace. They even laboriously 
moved the kitchen-cabinet and scanned the inno¬ 
cent gray plastering behind it. 

Suddenly they did discover something strange. 
While they were taking a last survey of the 
pantry Joan inadvertently lifted the lid of a 
huge roaster, and there, inside it, was a plate 
filled with food. A thick slice of boiled ham, some 
pieces of bread wrapped in a napkin, and a num- 


162 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

her of cookies were arranged tidily inside the 
roaster. 

It’s for the man’s luncheon,” Joan exclaimed. 

Mrs. Oldham knows about him and feeds him! ” 
I’m sure now that it was the man from the 
mill-room, because we saw books and a tray from 
this kitchen in his room, and to-day he came to 
the library, and here is the food waiting for him. 
Mrs. Oldham is most certainly connected with 
him, but she doesn’t have to let him in and out 
of the house. I’m determined to know how he 
gets in,” Mary Alice said decidedly. “ I don’t 
believe, since we scared him away, that he will 
come back before night, now. The thing to do is 
to watch for him to-night and find out how he 
gets in.” 

Joan looked at her in amazement. ^^Watch— 
in the dark? ” 

“ It’ll be worth it. Imagine seeing a man sud¬ 
denly drift through a keyhole or waft down the 
chimney in a cloud of smoke-” 

“We might sit on the back stairs, ready to run 
up them if we get frightened,” Joan suggested 
nervously. 

“That’s a good idea,” Mary Alice conceded. 
“ He probably won’t come back until the lights 



THE LIBRARY VISITOR 


163 


are out in the house; so we can wait until every¬ 
one is in bed, and then sneak down here. He 
ought to be pretty hungry by then, and come as 
soon as possible. And, speaking about being 
hungry,—it’s nearly one o’clock and we haven’t 
had anything to eat ourselves.” 

Wouldn’t it be a good joke to eat his food? ” 
Joan exclaimed. 

A good joke, but a complete admission to 
Mrs. Oldham that we know about her friend at 
the mill. I have a better idea. Let’s fix up a 
lunch and go out on the lawn to eat it. Then we ' 
can play tennis.” 

Let’s do,” Joan agreed with alacrity, for she 
did not like the idea of spending any more time 
alone in the house. 


CHAPTER XIII 


ON THE BACK STAIRS 

The girls were sitting in the shade of the big 
maple-trees on the lawn when Miss King re¬ 
turned late in the afternoon. 

“ I’m sorry to be so late getting back,” she said 
as Joan and Mary Alice went to meet her, their 
rackets under their arms. Could you find any¬ 
thing for luncheon? I forgot to tell you about it.” 

“We found plenty,” Mary Alice assured her, 
“ and we ate it under the trees.” 

“ Still, after your tennis game, you must be 
very anxious for supper. I will have it prepared 
in a little while.” 

“ Can’t we help you? ” Joan asked shyly. She 
was afraid to make any advances towards Miss 
King for fear that she would be coldly rebuffed. 

By this time the three were in the kitchen. 

“ That is very nice of you,” Miss King replied. 
“ If you will peel the peaches in that crock on 
the cabinet, while I clean up after my journey, it 
will help a lot.” 

Miss King returned after a few minutes, bring- 

164 


ON THE BACK STAIRS 


165 


ing three of her aprons with her. She was so tall 
that the ones Mary Alice, and Joan put on reached 
the floor and made them feel very grown-up and 
a little awkward. 

Cooking supper was a jolly affair, for Miss 
King was in a most pleasant humor, and Joan 
was so happy to have her smiling at her that she 
fairly bubbled with fun. 

And once, when a bit of grease popped from 
the frying-pan on Joan’s finger, and Miss King 
caught her hand quickly and applied a cooling 
salve, the girl watched the gray head bent over 
her finger and wanted to say, You have helped 
it so much. Auntie May,” but somehow she was 
afraid to, and her very emotion made her reply 
rather stiffly, “ Thank you very much. Miss 
King.” 

As they sat at the supper-table Miss King told 
them of some of the parties that had been given 
in the big house. Among them was the story of 
a hay-rack ride, starting in Fame and ending in 
the big King kitchen with a gay taffy-pull. The 
girls were so interested that Miss King said, “We 
can’t manage the hay-rack ride, but I will show 
you how to make the taffy, and we will have a 
triangular taffy-pull of our own.” 


166 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

So they washed the dishes and then boiled a 
huge mass of fragrant syrup. It was great fun 
pouring it into shallow pans and setting it on the 
back porch to cool. Once Joan heard a noise and 
rushed out just in time to save Pickles’ black 
nose from being scorched and their taffy from 
being ruined. 

Then they pulled it into long, glistening 
strands, and broke it up into pieces to harden. 
The pahns of their hands were pink from the hot 
taffy, and the floor and tables were sticky with 
stray bits that had dropped in spite of their pre¬ 
cautions. 

Miss King laughed once when she stepped into 
a particularly large splotch. We shall surely 
catch a thief to-night if one ventures in,” she said 
gayly, for we are merely applying the fly-paper 
principle on a large scale.” 

Joan caught her breath at the words. She and 
Mary Alice were expecting an intruder that very 
night, and she felt that, since Miss King men¬ 
tioned the matter of night visitors so casually, 
surely she did not know of the one who was com¬ 
ing. Joan felt that she should tell her, but just 
as she started to speak she remembered the older 
woman’s words, ''to-night at twelve,” and the 


ON THE BACK STAIRS 


167 


realization that perhaps she was prying into some 
of Miss King’s affairs made her stammer awk¬ 
wardly and indecisively. 

“ Miss King, we have discovered something 
about a Consuelo and a man in the mill, and we 
thought perhaps that you should know—should 

know-” She broke off vaguely, not quite sure 

of what they thought Miss King should know, 
and remembering too late Uncle Ben’s warning 
that they should not speak of Consuelo. 

At Joan’s first words Miss King, a plate of 
candy in one hand and a knife in the other, had 
turned to look at her. Her face had grown white 
and hard and she spoke sternly: Don’t men¬ 
tion Consuelo or the mill to me. I don’t know 
where you have been, or what you have run 
across, but, please, I don’t want to hear anything 
about it.” 

I’m—I’m sorry,’! Joan whispered, completely 
upset by Miss King’s words. We didn’t know 
we were doing anything wrong.” 

Not wrong, not wrong,” Miss King said 
crisply. “ I just do not want to be questioned 
about the affair, that is all.” 

She set the plate of candy down decisively and 
dismissed the girls by saying: We have eaten 



168 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


enough candy for one evening. I’ll clean up the 
kitchen in the morning. Good-night.” 

Slowly they went up the back stairs to their 
rooms. 

“ What shall we do? ” Joan questioned miser¬ 
ably as she closed the door of her pink-and-white 
room. 

“ I don’t know,” Mary Alice answered glumly. 
“ In spite of what she said, I don’t believe that 
Miss King knows about this man.” 

But how could I tell her after she told me to 
keep still? ” 

“ You couldn’t,” Mary Alice admitted. “ But 
I think it is up to us to find out about this man.” 

‘‘At least we can watch and see how he gets 
in, and if he is the person with whom Miss King 
has her twelve-o’clock appointment, we will come 
back and not listen.” 

“ Agreed! ” exclaimed Mary Alice. “ I must 
know how he gets in and out of the kitchen.” 

They took off their light dresses, and put on 
dark jersey frocks, in their zeal even removing 
the white collars and cuffs for fear the white 
would show in the darkness. Mary Alice even 
suggested that they use a little ink on their faces, 
but Joan absolutely refused. 


ON THE BACK STAIRS 


169 


^Finally, after about an hour of nervous wait¬ 
ing, they peered down the hall and saw that Miss 
King’s light was out; so they turned out theirs 
and crept down the stairs with the aid of a flash¬ 
light. The flash-light had been a last-minute 

t 

thought of Joan’s, or hardly a thought, for she 
had opened the table-drawer where they kept 
their list headed “ The Secret of Scared Acres,” 
and noticed the flash-light that Miss King had 
spoken of the night before. 

The cheery circle of light playing on the stairs 
gave them courage as they crept down. Mary 
Alice had brought several pillows, and they made 
themselves comfortable on the bottom steps. 

After they had listened cautiously for a few 
minutes Joan carefully opened the door and sur¬ 
veyed the kitchen. 

It looks just as we left it,” she whispered to 
Mary Alice. But do you suppose he has been 
here already? ” 

“ I hadn’t thought of that,” Mary Alice gasped. 

We can’t sit here all night waiting for a man 
who has come and gone.” 

There is only one way to find out,” Joan 
breathed, '' and that is to see if the food in the 
roaster is gone.” 


170 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

‘‘ Br-r-r, and suppose he should appear about 
the minute I had the lid off? He would never be¬ 
lieve me if I said that I didn’t intend to eat the 
food, but was just seeing that it was all ready 
for him! ” Mary Alice giggled. 

One of us will have to go and see,” Joan 
argued. 

‘‘ Let’s both go,” Mary Alice compromised. 
“ Then if the man appears, you can hold him 
while I run to safety! ” 

Cautiously the girls crept across the kitchen 
floor and into the pantry. Joan had the flash¬ 
light in her hand, and she raised the lid of the 
roaster a little and peeked in. The food was un¬ 
disturbed. 

“ It’s still here,” she whispered. Let’s go.” 

“ Wait a minute,” Mary Alice returned. “ I 
don’t intend to let this man sit here and gorge 
himself while I starve to death.” She fished a 
long pickle out of a jar and slipped a cookie into 
her pocket. 

Then they crept back, looking behind them at 
every step, and breathing a sigh of relief when 
they were once more on the stairs. They propped 
the stairway door open with Joan’s slipper, and 
Joan sat with her back against the wall of the 


ON THE BACK STAIRS 


171 


house so that she could look through the crack 
and command the space around the pantry door. 
There was a faint light shining through the win¬ 
dows from the moonlit sky, and she could vaguely 
distinguish objects in the room. 

If he comes into the kitchen/’ she whispered, 
our positions will be reversed from those of 
this morning. Then he peered through a door 
at us, and now we shall be peering through a door 
at him.” 

Would you recognize him? ” Mary Alice 
queried thoughtfully. I only got a glimpse, be¬ 
cause I didn’t know that he was there until you 
dropped your book.” 

“ Of course I can’t recognize him in this dark 
place,” Joan answered. But if it were light I 
might, though I only saw a part of his face 
through the library-door. I can’t describe him at 
all, and yet if I see him again I’ll recognize him, 
I’m sure. What concerns me more is which of us 
is going to run away this time.” 

Well, if he sees us, and doesn’t run,” Mary 
Alice exclaimed, we undoubtedly will.” 

What do you suppose Miss King’s twelve- 
o’clock appointment means? ” Joan questioned 
after a few minutes. Do you suppose she is 


172 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

going to meet some one, or was it just the time 
set for something to be done? 

I can’t even guess,” Mary Alice puzzled. 

But I don’t believe it is connected with the man 
that we think is going to come to this kitchen to 
eat his supper, since he is only coming to-night 
because we interrupted his trip this morning.” 

I never thought of that,” Joan conceded. 
‘‘ Besides, Mary Alice, if this is the man in the 
mill, she couldn’t be telephoning to him.” 

‘‘ That sounds logical, too. Still, if, after all 
our arguments. Miss King’s appointment is with 
this man, we should go back up-stairs. We 
mustn’t listen to any of her secrets.” 

All this conversation had been whispered, but 
the girls decided that they might be heard even 
then, so they stopped. Mary Alice nibbled the 
cookie and the time began to drag heavily. Joan 
looked at her watch and discovered that it was 
only ten-thirty. Soon after, in spite of their de¬ 
termination, they both dozed off, aided by the 
fact that it was still and close in the stairway. 

Suddenly Joan was wakened by a noise. She 
reached into the darkness for Mary Alice’s hand, 
but instead grasped the pickle which the girl had 
gone to sleep holding in her fingers. The cold, 


ON THE BACK STAIRS 173 

slimy thing startled Joan so that she gave a scared 
exclamation and Mary Alice woke up. 

Listen, Mary Alice! Joan barely breathed 
the words, but they sounded in her ears like a 
loud shout. 

What is it? ” Mary Alice whispered. 

‘‘ I don’t know, but something woke me up.” 

Can you see anything? ” 

No.” Joan was peering through the crack 
into the kitchen, but there was no one in that 
part of the room that she could dimly see. 

Then abruptly the noise came again, and they 
both whispered, The front stairs! ” Some one, 
they could now tell definitely, was carefully and 
slowly coming down the front stairs. 

The girls huddled together and listened. With 
a pause between each step, regularly, relentlessly, 
the sounds came. Down, down, down—they 
seemed interminable; Joan hadn’t realized that 
the stairway was so long. She grew more and 
more nervous until she thought that she should 
scream if some break did not interrupt those 
unseen footsteps. 

Even in her fear, though, she remembered that 
the stairway was old and undoubtedly would 
creak alarmingly, but it seemed strange that this 


174 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


person could not take a single step without that 
complaining and protesting cre-eak/^ And, too, 
she wondered why, since he was -not moving 
quietly, he should move so slowly. 

Then, abruptly, the sounds ceased and Joan 
immediately wanted to hear them again. At 
least, while the person had been creeping down 
the stairs she was certain that he was not sneaking 
towards the kitchen. She held her breath the bet¬ 
ter to hear the least sound from the swinging 
door between that room and the dining-room. 

Just as Joan thought that he surely must have 
reached the kitchen door, a crash resounded 
through the house and died away in oppressive 
silence. 

For a moment afterward she was paralyzed, 
and then, could she have found the flash-light, 
she would have dashed up the stairs, jumped into 
bed, and buried herself under the covers. But it 
had slipped from her Angers while she dozed, and 
the fear of taking one step up the black cavern of 
the stairway held her shuddering in her corner. 

He must have-’’ Mary Alice was giggling 

hysterically, he couldn’t have knocked over 
anything less than the grandfather-clock in the 
hall! 



ON THE BACK STAIRS 


175 


“ Sh-h-h,” Joan cautioned in an agony of fear. 
“ He surely will sneak into the kitchen now and 
hide. Miss King, I know, will hear the noise and 
get up to investigate it.^^ 

I’m going to bed,” Mary Alice asserted. 

Sh-h-h, Mary Alice, he may be coming any 
minute.” 

That is the reason I am going. Besides, he 
sounded as if he were tearing down the house as 
he came.” 

Do you suppose he got in while we were 
asleep? ” Joan whispered, reassured that Mary 
Alice would stay, now that she could joke, even 
though it was in a trembling voice. 

Well, he was in the last time we saw him. It 
surely makes it seem that there is an exit from 
the kitchen to the locked room, doesn’t it? ” 

Yes, it does,” Joan agreed soberly. And he 
has been prowling around up-stairs and is just 
coming down from there.” 

I don’t like the idea of his prowling around 
up-stairs,” Mary Alice shivered. Just imagine, 
he may have been hidden in the dark hallway, 
watching us creep down the back stairs! ” 

Just then Joan thought she heard a slight 
sound from the front of the house, but it was not 


176 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

repeated and she could not be sure. Finally, after 
what seemed a long time, Mary Alice whispered, 
He will starve if he doesn’t get around to eat 
before long.” 

“ And we can’t stay here all night. We are 
both getting sleepy, and I don’t propose to have 
him find us asleep.” 

Besides, he might go up-stairs again and come 
down the back stairs,” Mary Alice said with a 
shudder. “ Wouldn’t that be terrible? Let’s go 
to bed right now.” 

“ But we are no nearer discovering how he 
got out of the kitchen than we were,” Joan ob¬ 
jected. All we know is his method of coming 
down the front stairs.” 

I have lost all my interest. I prefer to go to 
bed.” 

“ I know what we can do, Mary Alice. Let’s 
tie up the doors, and then we will know which 
one he comes through. That will help us figure 
out how he gets in and out.” 

If he comes through any door at all. Be¬ 
sides, if he does come through a door, he will 
know that something is wrong if it is tied shut.” 

“ No, I don’t mean that. Use thread, just one 
strand. In the dark it will break so easily when 


ON THE BACK STAIRS 


177 


the door is opened that it will not be noticed, but 
in the morning we can see which threads are 
broken.” 

Of course,” Mary Alice answered sarcastically. 

Shall you or I go ask Miss King where she 
keeps her sewing-box? And do you prefer laven¬ 
der or green thread? ” 

Neither,” Joan stated proudly. I’ll bet your 
jersey dress has the hem whipped in, hasn’t itl 
Well, pull out the thread, and I’ll do the same 
with mine.” 

Never,” insisted Mary Alice. There is 
nothing I hate to do like whip in hems.' More¬ 
over, it seems to me that one of us will have to 
get up early in the morning and scurry down here 
and check up on the doors before Miss King 
comes down. It’s a good thing Mrs. Oldham is 
away; she gets up so early.” 

By Mary Alice’s last words Joan knew that she 
approved of the idea, and started pulling the 
threads out of her own dress. 

When they had several lengths, they cautiously 
crept out to tie the doors. The old-fashioned 
locks stuck out about an inch from each door, and 
it was an easy matter to wrap a thread around 
them and tie it securely. The outside kitchen 


178 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


door and the pantry door were soon fastened, but 
the swinging door into the dining-room presented 
a different problem. Finally they tied a thread 
to a chair placed on each side of the door and 
scurried back to the stairs. Here they paused 
only long enough to put their last piece of thread 
on this door and then went up-stairs cautiously, 
their sagging skirts dragging around their ankles. 


CHAPTER XIV 


TO-NIGHT AT TWELVE ” 

Once safely in Joanns room, with the door 
closed, Joan pulled the window-blind and ven¬ 
tured to turn on the electric light. 

“ Whew! ” Mary Alice sighed explosively as 
the girls looked at each other. I wonder what 
Judd would have said, had he been on the back 
stairs with us to-night? ” 

He would have said that the ghost was 
made! 

I think he would. And it is a noisy ghost. 
Remember the sounds in the kitchen the first 
night, and this awful crash to-night.’’ 

“ I wonder if the crash woke Miss King up? ” 

‘‘ If it did, she did not get up to investigate it, 
but maybe she is like me, and doesn’t investi¬ 
gate strange noises in the middle of the night. 
Still, Joan, that noise probably sounded a lot 
louder to us than it was, because we were sitting 
there in the dark, waiting breathlessly for some¬ 
thing to happen.” 

I suspect that it did,” said Joan hopefully. 

179 


180 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


She much preferred to think that Miss King had 
not heard the noise. 

Well/’ said Mary Alice, “ I’m going to bed. 
But first we have to settle which one of us is to 
get up in the morning and go down and remove 
those threads before Miss King gets up. I ought 
to make you do it, for you cooked up the idea of 
tying them on the doors, but I’ll be generous. 
Wait a minute.” 

She disappeared in her own room and returned 
after a minute with her hands behind her back. 

“ In one hand I have an alarm-clock,” she an¬ 
nounced, “ and in the other a hand-mirror. If 
you choose the clock, you’ll have to get up; and 
if you choose the mirror, you sleep.” 

I’ll take the left hand,” Joan laughed, and 
was presented with the alarm-clock. 

“ How am I going to wake up? ” she groaned, 
as she looked at the clock. “ It is after eleven 
now, and I am too sleepy to trust myself to wake 
up at six! ” 

“ That’s an aZarm-clock,” Mary Alice said 
significantly. 

But if I set it, I shall wake every one up.” 

“That’s true,” cried Mary Alice, with mock 
terror. “Don’t set it; I should be sure to be 


TO-NIGHT AT TWELVE” 


181 


roused out of a nice dream. The problem is 
yours, though. I'm going to bed, as I said be¬ 
fore." 

After Joan got ready for bed she decided to 
move her pillow to the foot of her bed, so that 
she would sleep facing the window and the morn¬ 
ing sun would shine in her eyes. She was sure 
that the bright light would arouse her in time to 
get the threads. She raised the window-shade 
and pinned back the curtains. 

The moon was just disappearing behind some 
tall trees, and Joan leaned out to watch it. She 
had often heard that the moon was loveliest on 
the prairie or on the ocean. 

“ The prairie or the ocean," Joan mused. I'm 
on the prairie, and Mother is on the ocean, but 
we are both looking at the same moon." 

Joan imagined that she could see beyond the 
placid prairie moon and catch a glimpse of her 
mother leaning on the boat-rail watching a silver 
ocean moon weave a path of fairy light across the 
Atlantic. 

Longing for her mother stirred in her heart, 
and she realized that she had only written her 
one letter since she had been at Scared Acres. 
“ But she will be expecting me to write about 


182 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES. 

Miss King/^ Joan thought unhappily, and I 
can’t tell her that Miss King doesn’t want me 
here. Mother has to take care of Daddy; she 
hasn’t time to worry about me. But I can’t put 
off the letter forever. I must write something. 
I’ll try to-morrow, and tell how we made taffy 
and how much fun we had, and not say a word 
about the other things.” 

As Joan leaned her cheek against the window- 
frame and let her thoughts wander far away to 
her mother and father on their eastern-bound 
steamer, the moon slipped behind the trees and 
she became aware of a myriad of fireflies hold¬ 
ing merry carnival on the lawn. Fascinated, she 
watched a host of them playing in and out among 
the trees that bordered the lane leading from 
the front of the house to the main road. 

Suddenly, just as she was about to turn away, 
she found her eyes fastened on two little points 
of light far down the lane. In all that flickering 
twinkle it seemed to her that these two little 
lights were steady. Joan watched them closely, 
and became convinced that there were two lights 
advancing towards the house, although she fre¬ 
quently lost sight of them because of the trees 
that bordered the lane. 


TO-NIGHT AT TWELVE” 


183 


She turned and softly called Mary Alice. There 
was no answer, and she ventured to call a little 
louder. 

What do you want? Mary Alice finally 
moaned in a sleepy voice. 

Come here and see the fireflies.” 

What? I have seen millions of fireflies in my 
life, but never when I could be sleeping. You 
can tell me about them to-morrow.” 

But, Mary Alice, they just seem to be fire¬ 
flies—I mean, they aren’t fireflies.” 

‘‘You are talking in your sleep,” Mary Alice 
said in disgust. “ Pinch yourself and turn over 
and let me go back to my dream.” 

“Oh, Mary Alice, come here! , There is some 
one coming up the lane! ” 

Joan heard Mary Alice jump softly out of bed 
and in a few seconds stumble noisily into the 
room. 

“ Did you fall? ” she whispered anxiously as 
her friend crept up to her side without saying a 
word. 

“ I stumbled,” Mary Alice answered crossly. 
“ One ankle is a complete wreck.” 

“ I’m so sorry,” Joan sympathized. “ How did 
you do it? I didn’t leave a chair in the way, did 


184 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

I? I have been careful since the hair-brush 
episode.” 

But Mary Alice was leaning out of the window 
by this time, and only replied, I don’t see any¬ 
thing but fireflies.” 

There were two steady lights coming up the 
lane,” Joan answered, looking from the window 
again. “They were flash-lights, I’m sure, and 
the persons carrying them stopped about where 
that big walnut-tree is.” 

“ What big walnut-tree? ” Mary Alice asked. 

“ Don’t you remember the one we sat under 
when we started to Mrs. Parrott’s after eggs? 
Anyway, the lights disappeared about there; so 
the persons either stopped, or are coming on with¬ 
out any lights.” 

“ Maybe it was two fireflies having an endur¬ 
ance contest to see which could stay lighted the 
longer.” 

“ Maybe,” Joan admitted, not minding the 
badinage. “ Please, Mary Alice, did you trip over 
something I left on the floor? ” 

“ The dictionary.” 

“ Dictionary? You are the one who is talk¬ 
ing in your sleep.” 

“ Walking in my sleep, you mean,” Mary Alice 


TO-NIGHT AT TWELVE 185 

giggled. '' No, Joan, I stumbled over the dic¬ 
tionary all right.’^ 

“You mean the big one on your book-shelf? 
You must have been walking on your hands to 
have skinned your ankle on it.’’ 

“Wretch,” sighed Mary Alice. “I might as 
well tell you, for you are going to quiz me until 
I do. I got so accustomed to tying up doors down 
in the kitchen that I decided to fasten mine, too.” 

“ But-” 

“Yes, I know that strings are better, but I 
didn’t want to spend all the morning sewing the 
hems back in my dresses; so instead of thread I 
used the dictionary by this door, and my suit-case 
in front of the one that leads into the hall. That 
was my big error—the suit-case would have been 
softer than the dictionary.” 

“ If you try to get out my door,” Joan 
chuckled, “ you will find a chair tied to it with 
my leather belt.” And they squeezed each other’s 
hands understanding^. 

“Look! ” Joan exclaimed, again glancing from 
the window. “See those two lights coming up 
the lane? ” 

“ Where? ” breathed Mary Alice, trying to fol¬ 
low Joan’s guiding finger. 



186 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


But almost as she spoke two figures came out 
from the dark shadows of the lane onto the 
lighter lawn in front of the house. Here they 
stopped again, and seemed to hold a conference; 
then they advanced hesitatingly until they finally 
disappeared by the side of a big lilac-bush near 
the front porch. 

The girls had to lean far out to be able to see, 
for their window opened on the side yard. For¬ 
tunately the lilac-bush was not directly in front 
of the house, but on one side,—their side,—and 
they could detect the dark splotch where the peo¬ 
ple stood close to the tree. 

I wish they would make up their minds what 
they are going to do,’^ Mary Alice shivered. 

This window-sill is about to cut me in halves.” 

‘‘ Do you suppose they can see us? ” Joan 
worried, since the persons seemed to be per¬ 
manently stationed by the bush. 

I don’t think so,” Mary Alice decided criti¬ 
cally. We are just a part of the vague outline 
of the house. We shouldn’t notice them if we 
hadn’t seen them with their flash-lights.” 

The girls waited for some minutes longer, 
growing more and more uncomfortable all the 
time. They had just about decided to take turns 


TO-NIGHT AT TWELVE ” 


187 


watching, when a vague shadow emerged from 
the direction of the front porch, and they heard 
a high, querulous half-whisper which they both 
recognized. 

“ Right dis way, gentlemen.’’ 

The dark splotch by the lilac-bush that was 
evidently the “ gentlemen ” moved with alacrity 
towards the house and out of their line of vision. 
The girls drew back from the window and stared 
at each other in blank amazement. 

It was Uncle Ben,” Joan whispered. 

“We can’t be mistaken in his voice,” Mary 
Alice agreed. “ But who are the ^ gentlemen,’ 
and what can they want? A most unusual time 
for ^ gentlemen ’ to call, I think.” 

“ Still, I can’t believe that they are on an un¬ 
derhand mission,” Joan pondered. “ Uncle Ben 
seemed so loyal to the Kings.” 

“ I’m sure that they are not thieves,” Mary 
Alice stated. “ But let’s tiptoe down to the stair¬ 
way and see what they are doing.” 

The girls got their kimonos and cautiously crept 
down the carpeted hall until they reached the 
stairs. Here they paused and leaned far over the 
banisters. They could not hear a thing, but they 
could see a square of moonlight on the hall floor 


188 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

that meant that the front door was open. Then 
they caught an indistinguishable murmur of 
voices and saw a flash of light across the hall 
floor. 

“ That was one of the flash-lights/’ whispered 
Mary Alice, “ and it came from the room with the 
locked door! ” 

I do wish we could see what they are doing,” 
Joan sighed. 

“ I won’t go a step down that stairway in my 
nightie,” Mary Alice muttered decisively. 

‘‘ Sh-h-h,” cautioned Joan suddenly. I 
thought I heard a sound from Miss King’s room.” 

‘‘You did? Let’s go back to our room. We 
can’t see anything down-stairs anyway, and I 
should hate to have her find us here.” 

Joan nodded her head in quick agreement, and 
the girls tiptoed back even more cautiously than 
they had advanced. 

They carefully shut the door, and Joan re- 
wrapped the leather belt around the knob. 

“ So this is what ‘ to-night at twelve ’ meant,” 
said Mary Alice soberly as she went back to her 
old station across the window-sill. 

“ I’m afraid so,” admitted Joan. 

The girls leaned out of the window for some 


TO-NIGHT AT TWELVE 


189 


time, but their patience was finally rewarded. In 
the dim, shifting moonlight they could see the 
two figures reappear from the front of the house 
and go in the direction of the lane. They were 
not using their flash-lights, and it seemed to Joan 
that they were carrying something between them, 
but she could not be sure. 

The girls continued to lean far out to watch 
the strange pair disappear among the shadows of 
the lane, until Uncle Ben shuffled along under 
their very window and faded out of sight around 
the house. 

“ I have a feeling that that is all for to-night,’’ 
Mary Alice whispered soberly, turning from the 
window. ‘‘ I think I’ll sleep with you; no one 
knows where that dictionary is by now.” 

Neither of them spoke until they were snuggled 
into bed. 

Do you suppose it was Uncle Ben who was 
creeping down the stairs? ” Mary Alice asked 
thoughtfully. 

It might have been. But, Mary Alice, 
weren’t those men carrying something when they 
left, something big? ” 

Yes, they were carrying something between 
them,—a big box or something. I know! It was 


190 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


Uncle Ben carrying it down the stairs that we 
heard, when we were on the back steps. That’s 
why he went so slowly and cautiously; and then 
at the last step or so he dropped it! ” Mary Alice 
finished. 

But if two men were needed to carry it away, 
Uncle Ben could not get it down-stairs by him¬ 
self,” Joan objected. 

“ Those men were moving briskly when they 
left, so what they carried wasn’t very heavy. And 
you know the person coming down the stairs 
took a lot of time. Uncle Ben might have been 
easing down the box, or whatever it was, step 
by step.” 

“ That would explain the regular creaking that 
we heard,” Joan admitted. But what did those 
men have to go in the locked room for, if Uncle 
Ben brought what they carried away down the 
stairs? ” 

That’s a puzzler,” agreed Mary Alice. “ In 
fact, that may ruin all our theory, although I am 
inclined to stick to the belief that Uncle Ben made 
the stairs creak to-night.” 

You are probably right,” Joan admitted 
again, and both girls went to sleep without men¬ 
tioning one thing, and that was that it might have 


TO-NIGHT AT TWELVE 191 

been Miss King who helped Uncle Ben down the 
stairs. 

Joanns sleep was troubled, though, for she felt 
that if Miss King was engaged in secretive trans¬ 
actions at Scared Acres, she might have a very 
definite reason for not wanting a stranger there, 
and probably would not change her attitude to¬ 
wards her. Moreover, Joan knew that she herself 
could not freely like any one who moved in an 
atmosphere of secrecy, and she began to hate the 
mystery that had promised her so much when she 
first came to Scared Acres. 


CHAPTER Xy 

THE CLOSED DOOR OPENS 

“ Breakfast is nearly ready, lazy things.” 

Joan woke up with a start. To her dismay she 
saw that the sun was high, and she realized that 
Miss King was calling from the kitchen. Mary 
Alice was rolled up in a tight little cocoon on her 
side of the bed, but Joan ruthlessly pulled the 
covers away from her. 

Oh, Mary Alice,” she groaned, I didn’t wake 
up and go down after those strings we tied on the 
doors! ” 

“ What strings? ” 

The ones we took out of our skirts and tied 
on the doors,” Joan cried. “ Please wake up, 
Mary Alice, and help me think what to do. Miss 
King is in the kitchen already.” 

‘‘You mean to say that you didn’t go get 
them? ” Mary Alice asked indignantly. 

“No, I didn’t wake up.” Joan was almost in 
tears. “And I was sure that the sun shining in my 
face would wake me.” 

“ Well, don’t worry,” grinned Mary Alice. “ It 

192 


THE CLOSED DOOR OPENS 193 

woke me up all right. I dreamed that the mill 
was burning up, but it was only the sun in my 
eyes.’^ 

‘‘ Oh, you grand girl! And the strings? ” Joan 
asked hopefully. 

Yes, I went down and got them.” Mary Alice 
closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. 

^^And had any of them been disturbed? ” Joan 
exclaimed. 

Um-m-m,” said Mary Alice without opening 
an eye. 

“ Which one? Mary Alice, tell me, please. I 
can^t wait.” 

“ Guess.” 

“ The dining-room? No, the back stairs? Oh, 
I can't guess.” 

‘‘ The pantry.” 

“ The pantry,” repeated Joan slowly. ‘^And 
all the others were still fastened? ” 

Um-m-m.” 

** Then he got into the kitchen, but not through 
the back stairs door, or the dining-room door, or 
he didn't come in the back door. Then there is 
a secret entrance of some sort. Had he eaten the 
food? ” 

“ I didn't have time to look in the pantry, to 


194 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

see if the food had been touched, because I heard 
Miss King coming down the front stairs.’^ 

Girls, please, the omelet is nearly done.” 
Coming, Miss King,’’ Joan called, as they 
jumped out of bed. They dressed hurriedly, and 
in a few minutes were down-stairs, eating break¬ 
fast in a sunny corner of the kitchen. 

After breakfast the girls helped Miss King do 
the dishes, but neither of them got a chance to 
peek into the roaster, though they passed it many 
times on their trips to the pantry. 

When the dishes were finished and Mary Alice 
was brushing out the kitchen. Miss King called 
Joan into the library. 

“ I have to go to Fame this morning on busi¬ 
ness, and then I am going after Mrs. Oldham,” 
she said abruptly. It will be a long, hard trip, 
or I would take you to town. I—I want to get 
you a white dress, Joan. Do you think it will be 
satisfactory if I bring out several on approval? 
Boone’s will probably not have over two or three 
that you can wear, anyway, so if I bring them out 
here, you will have just as much selection as if 
you went to try them on.” 

Oh, Miss King, that is so sweet of you, but I 
mustn’t let you buy things for me,” Joan stam- 


THE CLOSED DOOR OPENS 195 

mered, confused and embarrassed at the mention 
of the white dress. 

“ Nonsense, child. It is a great pleasure to have 
some one to do things for. It^s very hard to live 
only for oneself.^’ Miss King’s voice faded away 
in a wistful sigh that brought the tears to Joan’s 
eyes. 

You don’t know how nice it is to have people 
want to do things for you,” Joan answered softly, 
feeling that Miss King really liked her after all. 
“Miss King is just proud and reserved,” she 
thought to herself, “ and not accustomed to hav- 
ing girls around. Underneath she is really sweet 
and friendly, and I have been too sensitive.” She 
smiled shyly at the older woman and finished 
aloud, “ I’ll be glad to sing in the choir with 
Mary Alice’s friends.” 

“ Then we are making both of us happy,” Miss 
King laughed. “ Now tell me what kind of a 
dress you want.” 

“Any kind of a plain white dress,” Joan decided. 
“Somewhere, though, I have been having a 
mental picture of a straight little dress of crepe, 
trimmed only with hand-hemstitching,” she added 
naively. 

“ That’s the kind of dress you shall have if I 


196 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

can find it/^ Miss King said. “ Of course I shall 
be limited by the stock at Boone’s.’^ 

But I’ll like any dress you select,” Joan cried. 

I merely described that one to give you some 
idea of the type I wear best.” 

I am sure that I shall need your description 
and suggestion. It has been a long time since I 
have chosen dresses for any one.” And then Miss 
King got cold and distant again, in spite of Joan’s 
attempts to convince herself that she only im¬ 
agined it. 

While I am gone, I thought you and Mary 
Alice might like to practise the hymns for Sun¬ 
day; so I opened the music-room this morning,” 
Miss King continued as she stood up. “ If you 
will find Mary Alice, I will show it to you now.” 

Joan skipped out to the kitchen and found 
Mary Alice in the back yard, feeding Pickles a 
huge saucer of milk. Pickles quite evidently was 
not hungry, for she much preferred Mary Alice’s 
hand rubbing her back to the rich yellow milk. 

Pickles must be dieting,” sighed Mary Alice, 
as she held the saucer close to the cat’s nose,— 
so close, in fact, that pussy was forced, rather in¬ 
dignantly, to wash the milk off her shining black 
face. 


THE CLOSED DOOR OPENS 197 

She's not dieting/' Joan laughed. Look at 
her sides. She has probably eaten half a dozen 
mice already. But put her down, for Miss King 
is going to show us the music-room! " 

‘‘The music-room?" breathed Mary Alice, as 
she skipped along by Joan's side. 

Miss King was waiting for them in the library, 
and they solemnly followed her across the hall 
and watched her reach out a slim hand and slowly 
turn the knob of the locked door. 

Joan was sure that it wouldn't open, but it did, 
and the girls waited breathlessly for their first 
glimpse of the music-room. 

“ The room looks dismantled now," Miss King 
said as she led the way in. “ I took the curtains 
down, and put away all the pillows and center- 
pieces and so on, before I locked the room many 
years ago." 

She stepped to the windows and raised the 
blinds, and the girls looked around with interest. 
The music-room was a long room, and, despite the 
fact that all the accessories that make a place 
cheerful and friendly were gone, it seemed to 
have an atmosphere of lightness and gayety. The 
grand piano which dominated the room had a 
satiny walnut finish, and the keys gleamed white 


/ 


198 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

in spite of their years of idleness. A music- 
cabinet matched the piano, and several dainty 
chairs and a very prim settee were also of wal¬ 
nut, upholstered in a cool green brocade. The 
paper was a satin stripe,, in a soft cream color, 
and the carpet was a green-gray. And every¬ 
thing was blended together by the fading of years. 

“ Joan will use this room to entertain her 
friends this winter, and I am going to let her re¬ 
decorate it,’^ Miss King said abruptly. “ I want 
her to choose the curtains and plan some pillows, 
and perhaps select a dainty floor-lamp.’^ 

“Oh—oh!” Joan cried, her eyes shining. 
“ Miss King, that will be the nicest thing I have 
ever done in my life. I know right now just what 
I want,” she went on; “ lavender-taffeta ruffled 
curtains tied back, and a lavender-taffeta pillow 
on that darling green settee, and a floor-lamp— 

a floor-lamp-” Joan paused and continued 

slowly, “ cream, maybe, to match the walls or— 


“ Well, at least you can think a while about the 
floor-lamp,” Miss King laughed at her exuber¬ 
ance. “ I have a very beautiful Spanish shawl 
that used to be thrown across the piano. I took 
it up-stairs last—it is up-stairs now,” she inter- 




THE CLOSED DOOR OPENS 199 


rupted herself hastily. “ I will show it to you, 
and perhaps it may change some of your plans.’^ 
Mary Alice had slipped over to the piano and 
was softly trying the keys. 

‘‘ Here are the hymn-books the minister’s wife 
sent,” Miss King went on. The hymns the 
choir will sing Sunday are marked by slips of 
paper. I must go now; I have an appointment in 
town at ten-thirty.” She was out of the room be¬ 
fore either of the girls could speak. 

Joan was still standing in the middle of the 
floor, staring with delight at the room she was to 
decorate all by herself. Miss King didn’t say 
what color the Spanish shawl was,” she spoke 
dreamily. I do hope it is a creamy-white, with 
flowers embroidered on it in colors.” 

Then Mary Alice began to play some of the 
hymns, and Joan went over to her side. Mary 
Alice touched the keys very lightly, and the piano 
did not sound out of tune to the girls, as their 
young voices sang the familiar songs. For an 
hour they practised, and then they closed the 
piano and turned around on the bench to survey 
the room again. 

Why should any one keep such a lovely room 
locked up? ” Mary Alice asked. 


200 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Joan shuddered a little at the words. Her mind 
had been so filled with Miss King’s new friendli¬ 
ness that she had forgotten for a minute the 
secrets of the place that seemed to shut her out. 
For an instant she thought that she could never be 
interested in the mystery again, and then her eyes 
fell on the side of the room that joined the 
kitchen, and she walked over to look at the wall. 
The satin-striped paper was just as smooth here 
as it was all over the room. 

Mary Alice, there is no entrance into the 
kitchen through this wall,” she said thoughtfully. 

The man could not have disappeared into this 
room yesterday morning.” 

Mary Alice, too, began to look around the room. 
" There couldn’t possibly be an entrance in this 
wall,” she chimed in. I believe that this room is 
just what it pretends to be. I can’t imagine any 
ugly mystery in such a dainty place.” 

Still, it was the locked room,” Joan brooded, 
glancing about. ‘‘ And, Mary Alice, look there! ” 
Joan’s voice rose a little higher, and she pointed 
towards one side of the room, the side that ad¬ 
joined the hall. 

Why, what is it? ” cried Mary Alice, startled. 
She whirled around and followed Joan’s pointing 


THE CLOSED DOOR OPENS 201 

finger. “ But—but I don’t see anything. Did 
you see the man peeking in the hall door? ” 

No—^not that,” Joan said, slowly walking over 
to the wall. But look, Mary Alice, look on the 
floor.” 

“ You mean that little rug? ” Mary Alice said, 
puzzled. Is that what you are so excited 
about? ” 

“ Yes. IVe seen that rug before, haven’t you? ” 

“ Why,” said Mary Alice, “ I don’t think so.” 

“ Well, I have. It has been out in the hall in 
front of the high-boy ever since I came to Scared 
Acres.” 

‘Mt has?” said Mary Alice. “I wonder why 
Miss King brought it in here. It certainly doesn’t 
fit in this room.” 

The rug the girls were discussing certainly did 
not blend gracefully with the dainty furnishings 
of the music-room, for it was heavy, with the 
picture of a dog woven in the center of it. 

“ I wonder what kind of a dog it is supposed 
to be,” Mary Alice said irrelevantly. “ It is big 
enough to be a St. Bernard, but it looks more like 
a haggard old hound.” 

“ It’s atrocious in this room.” Joan shuddered. 

I can’t bear to have it in here, Mary Alice.” 


202 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


Tell Miss King that you donT like it, and I 
am sure that she will let you move it,’^ Mary 
Alice soothed her. 

But why do you suppose she put it here in 
the first place? It looked all right in that dark, 
old-fashioned hall.’’ 

Can’t you guess? ” Mary Alice asked quickly. 

Why do you suppose Miss King put that rug 
here, where it must be as distasteful to her as it 
is to you? ” 

I can’t think of any reason at all,” wailed 
Joan. 

She put it here to cover up something,” Mary 
Alice said confidently. Let’s see if I am right.” 
She walked up to the rug, took up one end of it, 
and flipped it off the carpet. ‘‘ Look! ” she cried, 
almost as amazed at the correctness of her own 
guess as was Joan. 

For underneath the rug was an oblong piece of 
the gray-green carpet that was bright and fresh. 
It stood out abruptly against the faded colors of 
the rest of the rug. 

‘‘How new it looks! ” Joan gasped. “Some¬ 
thing has evidently been sitting on that strip of 
carpet for a long time, while the rest of it faded 
a little year after year.” 


THE CLOSED DOOR OPENS 203 

‘‘And what covered that strip of carpet? Mary 
Alice asked calmly. 

“Why, Mary Alice, I haven’t the slightest 
idea,” Joan exclaimed in surprise. 

“ You remember, don’t you, the men who were 
in this room last night? ” 

“ Oh,” breathed Joan. “ And they carried 
something away! ” 

“Yes!” Mary Alice cried triumphantly. 
“ You are standing at that end of the bright strip, 
and I am standing at this end. Weren’t those 
men about this far apart when we saw them leave 
last night? ” 

“ Yes,” but Joan’s tone was more doubtful this 
time. “Yes, Mary Alice, but I thought they 
carried away something that Uncle Ben carried 
down the stairs.” 

“ Why,” said Mary Alice blankly, “ why, I did 
too. Still—but—I don’t understand it at all,’^ 
she finished defiantly. 

“ Neither do I,” Joan added bitterly, as she re¬ 
placed the rug. 

“ But I know one thing we forgot to do,” Mary 
Alice cried, starting for the door. “We forgot to 
look in the roaster and see if the man ate his food 
last night.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


UNCLE BEN THINKS TWICE 

Both girls dashed out of the music-room, down 
the hall, through the dining-room, and into the 
kitchen. Mary Alice reached the pantry door 
first, and, snatching the top off the roaster, bran¬ 
dished it and exclaimed, “ He did not go to bed 
supperless! 

“And he didn’t leave many crumbs,” Joan 
added, peering over her shoulder. 

“ Just imagine,” Mary Alice suggested sympa¬ 
thetically, “ he came to the house to eat that food 
for luncheon, and he didn’t get it until after mid¬ 
night. I can understand how he felt. In fact, I 
probably should have licked the plate.” 

“We know now that he gets out of the kitchen 
without going through any of the doors,” Joan 
said with satisfaction. 

“We knew that much yesterday when we fol¬ 
lowed him in here,” Mary Alice murmured with 
a grin. 

“ So we did.” Joan was chagrined. “ Still, it is 

nice to have proof of impossible things.” 

204 


VNCLE BEN THINKS TWICE 205 


Just then the girls heard some one come in the 
kitchen door, and they stood paralyzed, con¬ 
vinced that it was the very man they were talking 
about. They did not dare whisper for fear that 
the person would hear them, but each knew what 
the other was thinking. Mary Alice’s face was 
pale, and she clutched the roaster-lid convulsively. 
Joan could not move, and her eyes were fixed des¬ 
perately on the pantry door. 

“ Isn’t nobody at home? ” came a shrill voice 
from the kitchen. 

Oh-h-h! ” Joan let her breath out in a long, 
relieved word. 

It’s Uncle Ben,” cried Mary Alice, dropping 
the roaster-lid with a clatter and making a dash 
for the pantry door. 

Joan followed close on her heels, and saw Uncle 
Ben standing in the middle of the floor with a 
basket of eggs in one hand and a bucket of pota¬ 
toes in the other. 

Oh, Uncle Ben,” Mary Alice exclaimed, while 
Joan gasped in amazement at her words, is there 
such a thing as a secret room or entrance in this 
house? ” 

Well, not ’xactly,” answered Uncle Ben, hand¬ 
ing Joan the eggs, which she nearly dropped in 


206 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

her astonishment, and shuffling into the pantry 
with the bucket of potatoes. 

Did you hear what he said? she whispered 
to Mary Alice, who seemed rooted to the floor. 

How did you happen to ask him? 

I don’t know,” Mary Alice said slowly, dazed 
at her own words. I just said it all at once 
without thinking.” 

What did you mean just now. Uncle Ben? ” 
Joan asked, as the old negro came out of the 
pantry. Is there really a secret room in this 
house? Tell us quickly, for we are dying of curi¬ 
osity.” 

Uncle Ben chuckled and eased himself into a 
chair by the door, pleased at the idea of a talk. 

Poor old man,” Joan thought to herself as she 
set the eggs on the cabinet. “ He probably gets 
lonesome down in that little shack. Ugh-h, every 
one around Scared Acres seems to be lonesome.” 

Explain yourself immediately,” cried Mary 
Alice, sitting down at his feet, or I shall perish 
of curiosity right before your very eyes.” 

Uncle Ben chuckled again, greatly enjoying ~ 
their attention. There ain’t much to explain,” 
he said, but I better begin with the very first of 
the story, hadn’t I? ” 


UyCLn TRlSKS X7 


OtL mei A^ee. * Ecu - lear^ nin 
ATtiI S raiik iz: tie tc zid lEr. 


'¥:l~ 


zeiTtie rtczc 



-ZiizieEtjrL Ltit 
:c:^t tts zJkz'rTS wzil. im ie :idii"t 
t5 siiT^ ^^1^ ^ Rdu Z ZZzSLZ tS ^'!T.~rcg. 

’:a:tse ^Sii. i Izttje raj; r: vijsi t 3i: 
rcn ir ZLicfe rs ircw vsr^'t 12: 


|T^ 


vis t 2 .e taj?. jrc: iZirv. 'wzjhl ins le- 

3L™* t5> Tcre 'vierier ^e tr te ir iiiaT^ 
VZssrctri neii V2is rrcizi'ier? tr ^:?V- 
^ re 

Bet. Uriie J^ran x:rim,r>tr*i. jm 

r rtrsccTcfi irat jra ver? ^ 

iSriit a se!!:^ rlaire? 3»Iirj JEie izc I ;az: 
tertiy 'mz. 

r:z. i-ccciii^ ro “iat. xe sail inc^j 

sx^ryiti xi srrrj. * Fn rr tiax 

* Yrc vere taZ!ii^ arcur rlii \Iir* KTng’^ sur- 
rE^i >£i.-r A5 «l Wis tia: Xriarr ' 






Yc^rs 

cccr^e jriT irev it trat tme I vis 



















208 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

only about five years old, I guess, though I never 
did know jes’ how old I am; so what I’m tollin’ 
you was told me afterward. Now, let’s see, where 
was I? ” 

“You were talking about Mr. King and the 
slavery question,” repeated Mary Alice. 

“ Well, old Mr. King did not want to take sides 
with either party. All his fam’ly back ’round 
Charleston was big slave-owners, and he had us 
niggers. But, on t’other hand, he didn’t believe 
in slavery, and he didn’t bring any niggers out 
here that didn’t want to come with him. Yet he 
thought if other men wanted to have slaves, he 
had no right to say that they couldn’t.” 

The old man paused and wiped his forehead 
with his clean bandanna handkerchief. The girls 
were quiet, waiting for him to continue. 

“ By and by things got violent ’round here. 
Raids, and a few killin’s, and several fires—^you 
know—fires some one set for meanness-” 

“ Incendiary fires,” Mary Alice suggested. 

“Yes, dat’s it. In—in—uh-h, fires some one 
set for meanness. Nobody took time to under¬ 
stand things, and both sides was against Mr. 
King. He tried patiently to explain to every one 
he knew in town, but the people ’gainst slavery 



UNCLE BEN THINKS TWICE, 209 

could jes’ see that he had niggers and would not 
come out and fight the slave-men, and the slave- 
men thought he ought to be on their side, but he 
wouldn't join them, and they decided that he was 
playin' them false. And it all got worse and 
worse as the time drew closer to vote Kansas 
either free or slave—you know it was squatter 
sovereignty in Kansas-" 

Squatter sovereignty? " Joan echoed, puzzled. 

Oh," said Mary Alice, I know what that 
means. You see Kansas was not admitted to the 
Union until 1861. And before the Civil War 
the States in the Union were about equally di¬ 
vided on the slavery question, and naturally they 
were very much interested in whether a new State 
was going to be free or slave. While Kansas was 
still a territory Congress passed a bill called the 
Kansas-Nebraska Act, which said that Kansas 
could vote whether she wanted to be a free or a 
slave State—that was squatter sovereignty, letting 
the men who settled Kansas decide what she 
should be." 

I remember now," cried Joan, and Missouri 
was a slave State, and men from there kept com¬ 
ing over into Kansas to vote for slavery." 

“Yes," answered Mary Alice, “and that isn't 





210 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


all that happened. There were marauding parties 
from both States, burning homes and destroying 
crops and even killing people.’* 

That’s it, that’s it,” cried Uncle Ben, de¬ 
lighted. “ That’s just what I was talking about. 
M’raudin’ parties going up and down the road out 
here by Mr. King’s land, until he got afraid his 
home would be attacked, and that some one might 
try to run us niggers out of the State. That was 
the time this place got the name of Scared Acres.” 

‘^What?” cried Joan. ‘‘Oh, Uncle Ben, tell 
us about that! ” 

“ There ain’t much to tell. Mr. King had al¬ 
ways called his ranch King’s Acres before this, 
but now everybody got to callin’ it Scared Acres. 
It was jes’ like a nickname,—if you let people 
know you don’t like your nickname, you jes’ can’t 
shed it. Well, Mr. King-” 

“ But what made the people start calling it 
Scared Acres instead of King’s Acres? ” Mary 
Alice queried. 

“ That’s jes’ what I’m tellin’ you. Mr. King, 
he got scared ’bout the trouble that was goin’ on, 
so he put up signs all ’round this place, tellin’ 
people to stay out of King’s Acres; and he put 
a big chain across the entrance to the lane from 



UNCLE BEN THINKS TWICE 211 

the main road, and he tried to hire a white man 
to patrol the ranch at night—he didn’t dare have 
us niggers do it. And I don’t know how it started, 
but one day he found all the signs with the King's 
scratched out and Scared written in. Then I 
guess Mr. King got awful mad, and he went to 
town and stormed ’round, threatenin’ to prosecute 
anybody who called his place Scared Acres, and of 
course after that the name jes’ stuck; there wasn’t 
no shakin’ it.” 

But didn’t other people get scared, too? ” 
Joan asked. 

Most people was fightin’ on one side or 
t’other. And I’ve heard that everybody thought 
Mr. King was kinder—kinder crazy, he got so up¬ 
set and talked so much, tryin’ to explain to people 
how he felt about it. But he wasn’t,” the old 
man interrupted himself loyally. “ He was the 
kindest man I’ve ever known; he always used to 
carry candy in his pocket for us little pickanin¬ 
nies.” 

Uncle Ben paused, and Mary Alice said softly 
to Joan, Can’t you just picture old Mr. King 
threatening to prosecute some village wags for 
nicknaming his place Scared Acres, when the 
whole country was embroiled over slavery, and 


212 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES^ 

Kansas herself did not have any courts that could 
maintain law and order? 

^^And I can imagine how bewildered he must 
have been when people wouldn’t take time to 
understand how he felt about slavery, or didn’t 
want to. And how Mother will enjoy the story 
of the way that Scared Acres got its name! ” Joan 
finished exultantly. Now I shall have something 
to write to her to-night.” Then she was silent, 
wishing that she had not said the last, for Mary 
Alice might misunderstand, since she did not 
know that Joan felt she must find something to 
write that would not let her mother guess the 
truth about Miss King’s strange attitude. 

We must be getting close to the secret- 
entrance part of the story, Uncle Ben,” suggested 
Mary Alice, artfully. 

‘^Yes, yes, we are right there!” Uncle Ben 
agreed. Well, as I was sayin’, Mr. King got 
scared that his home would be attacked, and that 
an attempt might be made to run us niggers out 
of the State. Anyway, I can just remember my 
daddy goin’ with the other niggers night after 
night to dig a tunnel between the house and the 
mill, and my mammy and the other women takin’ 
them great buckets of coffee and piles of food in 


UNCLE BEN THINKS TWICE 213 


the middle of the night, and how scared us little 
niggers were by all the strange things that we 
could not understand.” 

“ A tunnel? Did you say a tunnel? ” gasped 
Mary Alice. 

“Yes, a tunnel. Then, when it was finished 
and the mTaudin’ bands was raidin’ ’round here, 
I remember all us niggers sittin’ huddled and 
afraid in this big kitchen. At night all the light 
we would have would be a little fire in the big 
fireplace. Mr. King’s women-folks would be sit¬ 
tin’ in the dinin’-room with the windows care¬ 
fully closed so that no light would shine through, 
and Mr. King would go back and forth from them 
to us. We got awful scared sometimes; once or 
twice we heard a great band of horsemen go along 
the road, and once some men come up the lane 
and stopped in front of the house, but the rest of 
the bunch out in the road kept callin’ to them to 
come on, and finally they all galloped away.” 

“ What a thrilling adventure. Uncle Ben,” Joan 
exclaimed, breathlessly. 

“And the tunnel, where was it? ” Mary Alice 
added. 

“ It was between the house and the mill,” Un¬ 
cle Ben repeated. “We was supposed to go 


214 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

through the tunnel to the mill, and then slip out 
and lose ourselves among the trees on the river- 
bank.” 

“ Sort of a secret passageway,” Mary Alice 
murmured with a satisfied air. Where do you 
get into it, Uncle Ben? ” 

Oh,” Uncle Ben looked around vaguely. “ I 
never knew. It connected the house with the 
mill.” 

^^Yes, yes. But you said that you waited in 
the kitchen, so it must have opened into the 
kitchen.” 

I guess so. We always waited here, and the 
white folks in the dinin’-room. But we never 
used it. And you see I was young, and I didn’t 
know much about what was goin’ on.” 

But haven’t you any idea? Mrs.^ Oldham 
told us that this kitchen was the only part of the 
original house left after the fire, so you must 
have waited in this very room.” 

‘^Yes, I must have,” Uncle Ben said, “but it 
seemed a lot bigger and darker to me then. But, 
you see, we never used the tunnel, and then the 
Civil War come along, and after it us niggers was 
freed, and my daddy decided that he was goin’ 
back south. He took me with him, and for a 


UNCLE BEN THINKS TWICE 215 


while it was lots of fun. But I got to pinin’ for 
the Kings, and as soon as I was old enough I 
sneaked back and have been here ever since.” 

“And you never heard anything about the tun¬ 
nel after you returned? ” 

“No, I don’t think so. By the time I got back 
old Mr. King was dead, and Mister Phil was man¬ 
agin’ the place and hirin’ white labor, and none 
of the niggers was left. I never thought any 
more ’bout the tunnel and I guess it jes’ fell in. 
My, missies, I have been sittin’ here talkin’ when 
I got to let the cows out to water, and mend the 
break in the west fence.” 

“ But, Uncle Ben,” wailed Mary Alice, “ we do 
so want to find the tunnel. Won’t you think and 
think about where it might be? ” 

“ I’ll think,” Uncle Ben chuckled at her woeful 
face, “ but it’s been a long time, and I don’t think 
so very well any more. I guess I’ve told you 
everything I know,” and he shufiled out. 

“ Isn’t that exasperating? ” Mary Alice sighed. 
“ I don’t believe that we are any nearer to finding 
the entrance to the tunnel than we were.” 

“ Do you think that when the house was re¬ 
built the tunnel-entrance was closed? ” 

“ If it had opened into any other room, yes. 


216 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

But we know that this man comes from the mill 
to the kitchen whenever he pleases.’^ 

“ Oh, missies,” came Uncle Ben’s voice from the 
back step, I jes’ remembered that all the grown¬ 
up niggers had a heavy pair of gloves given to 
them out of a drawer in the pantry jes’ as soon 
as they gathered in the kitchen.” 

That’s grand,”' smiled Mary Alice. You 
keep on thinking and you’ll remember a lot more.” 

‘‘ I don’t ’speck I will,” Uncle Ben chuckled, 
turning to leave again. Rememberin’ is kinder 
hard for me any more.” 

^‘Why did you say ‘that’s grand’?” Joan 
asked as soon as he had gone. “ It doesn’t mean 
anything to me.” 

“ It doesn’t to me, either,” laughed Mary Alice. 
‘‘ But I wanted to sound grateful to Uncle Ben, 
and it may be just the information that we need, 
for I intend to find that tunnel-entrance, although 
I admit I haven’t the faintest sign of a new idea.” 

“ I sut)pose it is right under our noses,” Joan 
mused. “Well, let’s get luncheon and then in¬ 
spect every possible corner.” 

“I’m so glad that you suggested luncheon,” 
exclaimed Mary Alice, jumping to her feet. “ I 
hate to be the one who always says ‘ Let’s eat.’ ” 


CHAPTER XVII 


PICKLES PLAYS A PART 

‘‘ There/’ said Mary Alice, setting the last pol¬ 
ished glass in the cabinet, the dishes from our 
luncheon are done and everything is in place. 
Now for the secret tunnel. Where shall we look 
first? ” 

In the pantry,” Joan volunteered, hanging the 
tea-towel neatly on its rack. “ At least we know 
he was in the pantry.” 

“ Yes, but the pantry door had been opened 
because our thread was broken; so he must have 
got into the kitchen first.” 

Oh, I don’t know,” slowly demurred Joan. 

Wouldn’t it be natural for him to stick his 
head out of the pantry door and listen a little if 
the tunnel opened into the pantry? ” 

Yes, it would,” Mary Alice admitted. Let’s 
look in the pantry then.” 

Both girls went into the pantry and surveyed 
its neatly-arranged shelves. One side was entirely 
given over to fruit and jellies, and, as Mary Al¬ 
ice said, no one could come through that wall 

without spending an hour or so moving innumer- 

217 


218 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

able cans of pears and beans and cherries. The 
other side—the pantry was long and narrow, with 
one end broken by a small window and the other 
by the entrance—had a miscellaneous assortment 
on its shelves. Food supplies, eggs, and milk 
filled the lower shelves, while the upper ones 
stored dishes and cooking utensils. Neither girl 
could imagine any one coming into this room 
through the side walls, and the window in the 
end had a screen that did not open and was too 
high to be reached without a step of some sort. 

Having rejected the pantry as a means of en¬ 
trance, they turned to the kitchen. The back 
stairs, they decided, were not a possibility now, 
since the girls had had the door tied shut. The 
walls of the kitchen, so far as they could tell, were 
intact, and were so clean and shiny that it seemed 
impossible for a secret door to fall open in their 
immaculate surface. The floor, kept spotless by 
Mrs. Oldham, also seemed to offer no possibility. 
It was constructed of wide boards, worn from 
years of use, and covered here and there with 
squares of linoleum. For one breathless minute 
the girls hastily moved the linoleum, expecting to 
find a trap-door, but there was no break in the 
floor^s even surface. 




PICKLES PLAYS A PART 


219 


After a consultation they finally decided that 
the only thing in the room that could conceal an 
entrance was the fireplace. It, they were sure, 
had not been changed since the days of old Mr. 
King. It was an enormous affair, built of gray 
rocks put together by mortar which was black¬ 
ened with age. The stones, the girls guessed, had 
been gathered there on the farm, since they were 
of various sizes and shapes. And naturally the 
number of projections and rough surfaces was 
innumerable, but they nearly tore it apart, stone 
by stone, pushing and pulling everything, includ¬ 
ing the iron bars that were firmly imbedded in 
the mortar. The fireplace was so large that, by 
bending, Joan could step inside, straighten up, 
and peer up the chimney. The heavy rock walls 
extended up and up until they were lost in dark¬ 
ness. Then, far above, she could see a patch of 
light that was the sky. 

At last they sat down on the floor and looked 
blankly at each other. 

I donT believe that it could be the fireplace,^^ 
Mary Alice decided regretfully, “because didnT 
Uncle Ben say that while they waited in the 
kitchen for the raids the only light was a glow 
from a little fire in the fireplace? ” 


220 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


But that was long ago, and Uncle Ben says 
that his ^rememberin’ ’ is poor,” Joan protested, 
reluctant to give up the fireplace as the tunnel- 
entrance. 

Don’t you see, though,” Mary Alice explained, 
that we can trust this impression, because while 
Uncle Ben may have forgotten some of the things 
he saw, he is not likely to remember something he 
did not see? ” 

I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Joan agreed. 
^^And that reminds me of the gloves he re¬ 
membered. What about them? ” 

“ My mind is simply paralyzed when those 
gloves are suggested. I have no ideas at all.” 

Do you suppose it was only to keep their 
hands warm? ” 

If there was a fire, it must have been cool, at 
least, but it seems strange that old Mr. King 
should keep gloves for them. He didn’t keep 
ear-muffs, or overcoats, or rubbers! ” 

To keep out cold,” said Joan, to prevent 

blisters, to keep the hands white-” 

^'What are you talking about?” Mary Alice 
exclaimed. 

I’m thinking of the reasons one wears gloves. 
To keep the hands white—I don’t think that ap- 





PICKLES PLAYS A PART 221 

plies here. But, Mary Alice, people wear gloves 
to prevent finger-prints. Maybe-’’ 

Never,’^ Mary Alice vetoed the idea emphatic¬ 
ally. It’s just recently that finger-prints have 
been studied. Remember, too, that these ma¬ 
rauders were rough frontiersmen who were accus¬ 
tomed to ride through things, and not to search 
for minute clues.” 

I forgot for a minute,” said Joan meekly. 

You certainly did. But go on with your in¬ 
ventory.” 

To prevent blisters. Um-m-m, I wonder— 
blisters and a little fire in the fireplace. Do you 
suppose there is any connection? ” 

It sounds as if there might be, but I don’t see 
any,” Mary Alice said impatiently, getting to her 
feet. 

Mary Alice, I think there is. I’m sure that 
it means that the fireplace is the entrance, and, 
since it was hot because of the fire, they had to 
have gloves to touch it.” 

Maybe,” Mary Alice admitted grudgingly. 

But we can’t find it, and I am tired of sitting 
around and talking about possibilities. Joan, 
there is one thing that we can do. We can search 
the mill! ” 



222 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

“With that man there?” Joan exclaimed, 
aghast at the idea. “ Never! ” 

“ Well,” ^lary Alice temporized, as she perched 
hCTself on the edge of the kitchen-table, “ I didn^t 
exactlv mean that he was to be there. You know 
it is after luncheon time, and he hasn’t eaten to¬ 
day. I thought we might go over and peek in a 
window, and perhaps see him operate the tunnel- 
entrance,” 

“ He’ll see us coming.” Joan’s tone was em¬ 
phatic. for she was firm in her determination not 
to go near the old milk 

“ I think we can keep him from seeing us,” 
Mary Alice argued “ In his room there was only 
one window, and that faced awav from the house 
and towards the river. Also, if I remember cor¬ 
rectly, there were no windows in the side of the 
mill that had the machinery, and that is the side 
that faced towards the house. Now, if we creep 
up on that side, and then edge around through 
the brud and vines to one of those hi^, dirty 
windows, we can watdi the groimd floor without 
his knowing that we are there. And since it is a 
tunnel the dtrance must be from the ground 
floor.” 

“ That sounds perfect.” Joan admitted “ But 






PICKLES PLATS A PART 


223 


hew do we knc's' rhAi he in ihe •?.rr! 

doesn’t {^cwl np and down me rfra'-cank? ® 

I don't believe iniu he venmres ooisiiie the 
miT!. and if we mn. he wen t chase is fardi^ 
the edze cf ihe weecs.” 


“ That’s far to give me cold shivers Jist 

thir/aTTg abcu:: in" 

“Oh. come on." urrei ilarv Alice. “Lee’s 
trv it. anvwnv. I don’t think he s interestei in 

m mm 


US. excent to keen oat of cur sight. Anvwav, be 
ran frem us the och«' time we sw him." 

“ Yoa’re taking for granted that it s the same 
mar." 


“WelL I resist the idea of a whole nock cf 


viilams. 

“AH right, rn s^isn:* 

“ Hue. You run up-stairs and get the fa^-- 
light while I put some cvx'kies in my pi.vket. We 
may have to wait seme time for him to appear." 

Their preparations completed, the gins started 
casually down the lane, as if they w>^ gn'ing for 
a walk. As sevn as they reached the main r.'ai 
though, they crawled under the fence into the 
orchard whkh stretched along one side of the 
house from the road to the wvvds that surrounded 
the stream. They drifted idly through hero, peck- 










224 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

ing a few flowers now and then, but drawing ever 
closer to the woods. Just before they slipped into 
the woods, Mary Alice found Pickles gayly chas¬ 
ing a nimble bird, and she insisted on taking her 
along. 

Once in the woods, the girls scurried quietly 
along and crept up to the mill on the side that 
had no windows. Then, close to its friendly wall, 
they slipped around to the other side and, find¬ 
ing a scrubby little elm by one of the dusty win¬ 
dows, stopped. There they had a silent, gestured 
debate as to which of them should look in the 
window. Finally Joan ventured a cautious peek, 
and saw, through the dusty pane of glass, the old 
mill as she had seen it two days before. 

At least that was her first impression. Then, 
suddenly, as her eyes became accustomed to the 
dim interior, she realized that a man was stand¬ 
ing on the far side of one of the corn-bins and 
leaning so far into it that all she could see was 
the curve of his body as he bent over the bin. 
Joan clutched Mary Alice and felt her squirm 
with eagerness. Neither dared whisper nor move 
for fear that some change in the light might cause 
the man to look up. They were so still that Joan 
could hear the tinkle of the water of the falls and 


PICKLES PLAYS A PART 225 

the contented purr of Pickles as she lay along 
the curve of Mary Alice’s arm. She did not, how¬ 
ever, take her eyes from their close watch of the 
man. 

Then, without looking up, the man stepped 
over the side of the bin and disappeared, and 
with a little gasp Joan realized that they had 
found the secret passage! 

She whispered to Mary Alice, and, after waiting 
for several minutes to be sure that the man had 
gone, they tiptoed into the mill. Even then it was 
scary to walk over to the bin and peer into it. 
At the last minute Joan had visions of the man 
crouching in the bottom, but he was not. In¬ 
stead, she saw a lever sticking through a long 
slot in the floor of the bin. The whole floor was 
a trap-door that let down, they could tell, because 
it was held slightly open by a corn-cob stuck be¬ 
tween it and the wall of the bin. 

“ In Mr. King’s day they probably had some 
corn or old sacks or something to conceal the lever, 
don’t you imagine? ” Joan whispered. 

'^Probably,” Mary Alice conceded, “but I’m 
more interested in it to-day. Let’s take a look 
inside.” 

Joan grasped the lever and tugged at it, but 


226 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

she could not budge the trap-door. Mary Alice 
dumped Pickles unceremoniously into the bin and 
helped. Finally, after much creaking and pro¬ 
testing, the bottom of the bin swiftly dropped 
down, and puss, vainly clutching at the worn 
floor with her claws, slid into the aperture thus 
opened. 

There goes Pickles,’’ wailed Mary Alice, grab¬ 
bing at her disappearing tail. “ Kitty, kitty! ” 
The girls peered breathlessly into the bin. The 
tunnel seemed to be directly underneath, and a 
rock wall on one side with ladder rungs fastened 
on it gave easy access. All they could see of the' 
bottom was a dirt floor, and puss crouching there. 
For a moment they thought she was going to 
climb back up the ladder at Mary Alice’s en¬ 
treaties, but a mouse ran out of some debris and, 
with a whisk of her long tail, the cat disappeared 
in pursuit. After that Mary Alice softly called 
in vain. 

That idiotic cat! But w^e can’t leave her in 
there. If the other entrance is anything like this 
one, she can’t get out and she will starve to 
death,’’ Mary Alice moaned. One of us will 
have to go after her, and, since it is my fault, 
I’ll go.” 


PICKLES PLAYS A PART 


227 


It’s not your fault any more than it is mine/’ 
Joan maintained. “ We’ll both go. The man is 
probably safe in the house, eating a cache of food 
Mrs. Oldham has left for him. It doesn’t look 
very scary, anyway.” And indeed it didn’t, with 
the bright sunshine streaming in the mill door; 
so she scrambled over the side of the bin without 
giving herself time to get frightened. 

Slowly she descended the slippery rungs of the 
ladder and stood on the dirt floor of the tunnel, 
blinking at the darkness. Mary Alice scrambled 
in next, but her foot slipped on one of the rungs, 
and, grabbing at the trap-door for support, she 
released its spring and it banged shut above her, 
with a reverberating sound. 

The girls were horror-stricken, for the dark and 
the smell of the damp earth and close musty air 
were terrifying. 

The flash-light,” whispered Mary Alice in a 
shaky little voice. 

Joan drew it quickly from her pocket and 
turned it on the closed door. Mary Alice stood 
on the ladder-rungs and pushed as hard as she 
could, but the door would not open. Then she 
pulled all of the machinery she could reach on this 
side of the door, but it stayed solid above them. 


228 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

At last, playing the flash-light about, Joan dis¬ 
covered the remains of a lever on this side, but 
the wood had rotted away, and there was only an 
inch or so of iron socket left sticking out. Neither 
of the girls, although each in turn held to the 
ladder with one hand and leaned far out, could 
come within three or four inches of it. Then 
Mary Alice held to the ladder and let Joan hold 
on to her, but the ladder-rungs were slippery, and 
Joan, although her finger-tips touched the pre¬ 
cious lever, could not exert enough strength to 
move it. 

Finally she gave up the attempt. Wehe wast¬ 
ing our time,^’ she urged. Remember the corn¬ 
cob that was stuck in the door and held it partly 
open? The man must have left it there, so that 
he could get out; which means that he has a hard 
time reaching the lever.” 

“ But what shall we do? ” Mary Alice cried. 
‘‘ Never again will I be friendly with a black cat! 
But there is no use blaming it on Pickles, because 
I am the person who insisted on coming here, and 
now we^re trapped in.” The tears gathered in her 
eyes. 

“ LePs take the flash-light and go down the 
tunnel,” Joan suggested desperately. “Maybe 


PICKLES PLAYS A PART 


229 


we can find a place to hide and watch him come 
in at the other side; then we can get out there/^ 

For the first time they noticed the rest of the 
tunnel. By their wavering fiash-light they could 
see that it was narrow, and that the walls were 
made of rough stone, somewhat similar to that in 
the fireplace. These walls had not been so well 
constructed though, for some of the rocks were 
bulging with the weight of the earth pressing be¬ 
hind, and crumbs of cement and an occasional 
small stone covered the floor. They ventured 

cautiously along, but found no unexpected turns 
or chambers that would conceal them while the 
man passed by. 

When they had been walking for what seemed 
a long distance and hours of time, Joan saw a 
faint light ahead. 

He’s coming back,” she gasped, switching off 
the flash-light, while Mary Alice seized her arm 
in dismay. 

As they watched in horrified silence, a round 
ball of white light from another flash-light came 
into sight near the top of the tunnel and slowly 
descended. 

He must be climbing down a ladder at the 
house-entrance,” Joan breathed. “ Oh, Mary Al- 


230 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


ice, what shall we do? Do you suppose that we 
can dash by him and get out at that end? 

“ In this narrow tunnel? Besides, he would 
hear us coming and his light is turned our way.” 

They stood paralyzed, wanting to run, but 
afraid to stir. Slowly the light advanced, and 
they were able to make out the man’s figure as 
he stopped to investigate the walls. He took his 
time, evidently feeling safe from observation, and 
carefully examined each wall as he came along. 
Once he dislodged a stone and it fell with a clat¬ 
ter, nearly making Joan cry aloud. 

In desperation the girls fiattened themselves 
against the wall, but Joan knew that they were 
sure to be discovered when he came closer. She 
hoped, though, that if he did not see them until 
he'was right beside them, they could still make a 
dash for the other end of the tunnel and take 
their chances on getting out there. 

Once he turned back towards the house, and 
the girls had hopes that he was returning to the 
kitchen, but he merely picked up something that 
he had laid down when he first started examining 
the walls. Whatever it was, he put it down be¬ 
side him again, and once more inspected the walls, 
slowly approaching closer and closer. Finally 


PICKLES PLAYS A PART 


231 


Joan knew that, as soon as he turned to examine 
the wall they were leaning against, his flash-light 
would fall on them. 

She burrowed back into the wall, pressing 
harder and harder, until all at once it gave way 
with a crash. She clutched wildly to keep from 
falling with it, and managed to get one of her 
outstretched hands fastened to a firm rock, and 
she wavered back and forth until something hit 
her on the head. With Mary Alice’s scream in her 
ears she lost consciousness. 


CHAPTER XVIII 



THE SILVER BOX 

Joan, Joan! Mary Alice was crying when 
Joan opened her eyes heavily and looked up into 
a blinding light. 

Joan, Joan, are you dead? ’’ Mary Alice went 
on, holding the flash-light directly in front of 
Joan’s eyes. Joan, speak to me! ” 

Joan blinked and tried to push the light away. 
It was a few minutes before she realized what 
had happened, and then she sat up quickly. 

Are we—did we-” she began weakly. 

Oh, Joan,” Mary Alice gasped, I thought 
you were never going to open your eyes. Are you 
badly hurt? ” 

Was I a long time coming to? ” Joan wanted 
to know. 

I suppose it was really only a few minutes, 
but I was so scared that it seemed like a year.” 

What about the man? ” 

“ He was scared, too,” Mary Alice giggled nerv¬ 
ously. “ He fled past us, and I heard a terrific 
racket at the mill-end of the passage. He must 

have used Herculean strength to open the trap- 

232 




THE SILVER BOX 


233 


door; anyway I heard a lot of banging, and then 
everything was quiet, including you. And, im¬ 
agine,—you had had the flash-light in your hand, 
and here I was in the dark, with all these awful 
noises around me! ” 

What did you do? Joan cried. 

I honestly don’t know, Joan. I began calling 
you, and I think I fell down on my knees and be¬ 
gan hunting for the flash-light. Then when I 
found it and found you, you were so white and 
still that I was scared all over again. Whew! ” 
Mary Alice sighed explosively. I must have a 
gray hair from that experience 1 ’’ 

Joan laughed a little, shakily. I bet the man 
was scared, too. He didn’t know any one was in 
the tunnel, and then, all at once, came that awful 
crash and your scream.” 

He was, all right. Why, he practically had 
to jump over you to get down the passage, but 
he didn’t stop for a single look.” 

^^And when he got there and found the corn-cob 
out of the trap-door, he must have thought every¬ 
thing was conspiring against him. Do you sup¬ 
pose he knows who it was? ” 

I suppose so. He didn’t stop to look, but he 
might have guessed from my scream. Though I 


234 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

don’t believe that he took time to think until he 
was out of the tunnel.” Mary Alice paused 
thoughtfully. “ You are the one who should have 
screamed. Why didn’t you? ” 

I guess I didn’t have time.” 

“ What really happened? ” 

“All I remember is that I was leaning against 
the wall and it fell, and I just had an instant to 
try to keep from going with it before I was hit 
on the head and crumpled up here,” Joan ex¬ 
plained slowly. 

“ What do you suppose made the rocks cave 
in? ” queried Mary Alice. “ It’s a wonder that 
you weren’t buried under them.” 

“ Why, no,” Joan replied, “ the rocks fell away 
behind me.” She took the flash-light from Mary 
Alice’s lap and turned it on the wall. “And there’s 
the reason,” she finished in amazement. 

The rocks of the wall where Joan had been 
leaning had fallen until there was a door-shaped 
aperture. Through the opening they could see a 
tiny room, also with rock walls, and cluttered up 
with a heap of stones from the fallen wall. 

“ How lucky you are that you managed to keep 
from tumbling in, too. Some of those stones 
would have fallen on you.” 


THE SILVER BOX 


235 


“ One of them did fall on me/' Joan complained. 

Ugh-h, my head is sore." She tenderly felt of a 
spot on her head. 

Surely not one of those big rocks/' Mary Al¬ 
ice remonstrated. “ It would have killed you, or 
at least cut your head badly." 

“ If you doubt that something hit the top of 
my head, feel of this bump! " She drew Mary 
Alice's fingers gently over her head. 

Joan, that's terrible. But I wasn't doubting 
that something hit you. I was doubting that it 
was one of those big rocks." 

Joan let her flash-light play on the heavy jagged 
rocks lying on the floor of the tiny room. “ I 
guess you are right." She shuddered at the 
thought of any of those huge stones hitting her. 

Maybe it was just a little chip off one of them. 
Why don't you look in the room and see what I 
discovered? " 

Mary Alice took the flash-light and went 
through the door to examine the room, while Joan 
sat still, not trusting herself to stand, for she felt 
dizzy and her head throbbed. She watched Mary 
Alice throw the light about the walls of the room 
and over the debris that cluttered the floor. 

It's just a little alcove of some sort," Mary 


236 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Alice said. About large enough for four or five 
people to stand in.” 

What do you suppose it is for? ” Joan asked. 

“ I don’t know. Maybe Mr. King had it put 
in as an extra precaution for his own family to 
hide in.” 

“ He probably didn’t want his ^ women-folks/ 
as Uncle Ben says, to have to hide in the woods, 
as he told the negroes to do. But I shouldn’t 
think any one would want to stay in there long. 
There can’t be much air.” 

I suppose they could just step in here,” Mary 
Alice said thoughtfully, “ if any of the marauders 
should chance to find the entrance to the tunnel 
and dash through it. I don’t know what kind of 
a door they must have had then, but it evidently 
has been carelessly walled up since that time. 
There is very little mortar sticking to any of these 
rocks, so I suppose that what little there was has 
crumbled away, and when you leaned against the 
wall it caved in. It’s a good thing that you didn’t 
fall in, too, and hit your head on these jagged 
rocks.” 

Mary Alice, I’ve told you twice that I didn’t 
fall and hit my head; something hit me, and then 
I fell. And I wish I knew what it was,” Joan went 


THE SILVER BOX 237 

on, nursing her sore head. “ Somehow I don^t 
think it was a rock.” 

Well, I don’t see anything but rocks. Maybe 
it was a small one, or just a glancing blow from 
a big one.” 

“ Maybe,” Joan persisted. But bring the 
flash-light and let’s look out here. I don’t think 
it was any of those huge old stones.” 

“No need to look out there now,” Mary Alice 
exclaimed suddenly. “ Here is some sort of—box, 
I guess—over here. You hold the flash-light a 
minute and I’ll see if I can lift this boulder out 
of the way.” 

She handed Joan the light and got down on her 
knees, throwing some small rocks to one side so 
that she could get at the big one. After a little 
tugging she held the rock up and Joan snatched 
away the box. 

Excitedly the girls knelt side by side and turned 
the flash-light on their discovery. It was a very 
shallow box, about eight inches long and only 
three or four wide. The metal of the box was 
black and crusted over with dirt, but Mary Alice 
rubbed it with her handkerchief until both of 
them were sure that underneath the accumulation 
of years was a box of silver with an elaborate de- 


238 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

sign on it. Two bands of silver went around it, 
ending in front with two tiny locks. 

With an awed exclamation Mary Alice took the 
box in her hands and tried to open it. The bands 
of silver held it tight, and even when she poked 
the dirt out of the locks, they still held fast. 

It’s locked,” she finally asserted. But some 
of our luggage-keys might open it if they were 
small enough.” 

“ Where do you suppose it was? ” Joan asked, 
holding out her hands for the box. It must 
have been imbedded in the door, to fall down and 
hit me on top of the head as it did.” 

I can’t see any place now,” Mary Alice said, 
after taking the flash-light and inspecting the 
walls and ceiling of the room in the vicinity of 
the doorway. 

Then it must have been mortared up in the 
door,” Joan insisted, inspecting the box closely 
for traces of cement. 

“ Joan,” Mary Alice exclaimed suddenly, that 
man was searching these walls-” 

Yes? ” 

He must have been hunting for this very 
place! ” 

^^And probably for this very box! ” 



THE SILVER BOX 239 

The girls looked at each other for a moment. 

Let’s get out,” Joan breathed, suddenly fear¬ 
ing that the man might come back. 

Mary Alice guessed what she was thinking, and 
answered: “ Oh, the man is gone for a while. You 
should have heard him run away; he was scared. 
Moreover, I don’t think he wants to be seen by 
any one.” But as she finished her gaze went past 
Joan, and down the tunnel in the direction of 
the mill. Her face became set in an expression 
of horror. 

Frightened, Joan turned her head quickly. Far 
down the tunnel, where the rays of Mary Alice’s 
flash-light did not penetrate, were two glittering 
points of light. Joan, too, was transfixed with 
terror, and could only stare and stare in the direc¬ 
tion of those immovable, glittering eyes. 

All at once Mary Alice exclaimed, Kitty! 
Pickles! ” 

A black form came bounding up to them, and 
Pickles sat down and contentedly licked her 
chops. 

‘'You wretched cat,” Mary Alice grumbled. 
“ We came in here to rescue you, and what do you 
do? You go off and eat a mouse and then sit in 
the dark and scare us.” 


240 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Let’s go,” Joan urged. I’m getting scared 
again.” 

‘'All right,” Mary Alice consented readily. 
“You take the flash-light and the box, and I’ll 
carry Pickles.” 

Pickles gracefully permitted herself to be cap¬ 
tured, and thus laden the girls set out towards 
the opposite end of the tunnel from the one they 
had entered. In a few minutes Mary Alice 
stumbled over something and discovered that it 
was a pick the man had set against the wall. 

“ That’s what we saw him go back after,” she 
exclaimed. “And look, Joan, here’s a book un¬ 
derneath ! ” 

“ A novel-reading ghost,” Joan exclaimed, as 
Mary Alice tucked the book under her free arm. 

“ I suppose he had the pick to dig out some 
rocks, if necessary, when he found the concealed 
room,” Joan suggested, not pausing in her march. 

Soon they came to the end of the tunnel. Here 
were other ladder-rungs in a little cubby-hole off 
the tunnel itself. 

“I hope there isn’t a trap-door that won’t 
open,” Joan gasped, dismayed at the prospect. 

Mary Alice looked up along the wall of the 
cubby-hole. “ I can see light away up and up,” 


THE SILVER BOX 241 

sHe said. Do you suppose this ladder goes clear 
to the roof, Joan? ’’ 

I hope not. I don’t believe that I can cliinb 
it if it does, for I still feel sort of wobbly, and that 
passageway is so narrow,” Joan answered, stand¬ 
ing so that she could see the little patch that 
seemed to be the blue sky. 

Just then Pickles opened a sleepy eye, looked 
up, wriggled out of Mary Alice’s arms, and scamp¬ 
ered up the ladder. After about twenty feet she 
paused, gathered herself for a spring, and leaped 
at the opposite wall of the passageway. The 
girls gasped, expecting her to come hurtling back 
at them, but she disappeared from sight,—all, 
that is, except her long black tail. It waved back 
and forth a few times, and then it, too, quickly 
vanished. 

She has found the way out,” Mary Alice spoke 
soberly. I’ll start up and find it, too, and then 
you come.” 

She climbed carefully up the ladder, while Joan 
leaned close to the rock wall and tried to throw 
the light up into the narrow passageway. When 
Mary Alice had about reached the spot where 
Pickles disappeared, she paused, surveyed the 
place, and chuckled. 


242 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


“ It’s very simple,” she whispered, and, taking 
hold of some bars that Joan could just distinguish 
stretching across the passage, scrambled awk¬ 
wardly for a few minutes and gradually disap¬ 
peared through the wall opposite the one that 
supported the ladder. 

Joan hastened to follow her, and found that 
when she climbed about the same distance the 
ladder stopped. Looking over her shoulder, she 
saw that the opposite wall also had stopped, and, 
peering over it, she saw another passage leading 
down. With the aid of the iron bars projecting 
slightly from the sides of both passageways, she 
scrambled over and started down. Here there was 
no ladder, but only more iron rods sticking out at 
intervals from the narrow sides of this new pas¬ 
sage. She slowly descended, and, when the pas¬ 
sage ended, stooped through a hole and found 
herself in the kitchen, with Mary Alice sitting on 
the floor grinning at her. She turned around and 
saw that she had come out of the fireplace. 

How simple it is! ” Joan exclaimed in her 
turn. And to think of the times we have looked 
up that chimney and have seen only the blue 
sky above! ” 

‘‘ Look back now, and that is all you will see,” 


THE SILVER BOX 243 

admonished Mary Alice. It’s the simplest and 
the cleverest arrangement that I can imagine.” 

Joan stepped through the opening and once 
more stood upright in the fireplace. Looking up, 
she could see far above her a patch of light, but 
in the darkness between she could not tell that 
the back wall did not go all the way. 

Well,” she breathed in admiration, “ that is a 
good idea, all right. You cannot see a thing, but 
you simply climb up on these rods that look as 
if they were made to hang kettles on, swing over 
the false wall, and there is the other half of the 
chimney to climb down! ” 

But it makes me wonder,” Mary Alice added 
thoughtfully, “ about that little fire in the fire¬ 
place that they had while they were waiting for 
the night-raids.” 

“ Um-m-m, that’s true. You wouldn’t be able 
to get in here, if there were a fire where I am 
standing. But, oh, Mary Alice, my idea of those 
people wearing gloves to keep from blistering 
their hands was right. You have to take hold of 
these iron rods, and if there were a fire, they 
would be hot.” 

I imagine you are right. But I can’t under¬ 
stand how they got over the fire in the first place. 


244 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


If they threw water on it, there would be a clear 
trace left for the raiders/’ 

Perhaps they had some sort of grate that 
pulled out and stood on the stone hearth while 
they climbed up the chimney. Still, that would 
leave a trail, too, unless the last man pulled it 
back in. He would surely have to scatter up the 
chimney, though, to keep from getting scorched 
and suffocated with smoke.” 

“ I know a simpler explanation than that—just 
as simple as the entrance itself, so it must be the 
one,” Mary Alice cried triumphantly. I bet they 
had a bucket of ashes here, and simply threw 
them over the fire. That would put out the 
flames, and any one coming in would think the 
fire had been ‘banked’ for the night.” 

“ Of course,” cried Joan. “ Why didn’t we 
think of it before? ” 

As the girls stood before the fireplace they 
heard the rattling of Miss King’s car driving into 
the garage, and, looking through the window, saw 
Miss King and Mrs. Oldham, each laden with 
packages, coming towards the house. 


CHAPTER XJX 


JOAN CHOOSES A WHITE DRESS 

“ There are Miss King and Mrs. Oldham al¬ 
ready/' Mary Alice exclaimed. What shall we 
do with the silver box? ” 

We don't want Mrs. Oldham to see it," Joan 
added. But the approaching pair were too close 
to allow the girls time for words, so they snatched 
up the box and book and retreated through the 
dining-room into the library. 

They had expected Miss King to pause in the 
kitchen, but they heard her come on into the din¬ 
ing-room. The girls had stopped in the center 
of the library, with the box and book still in their 
hands, and Mary Alice hastily stuck the book 
under a chair and Joan sat down on the box. 
Then they heard Miss King call to the house¬ 
keeper. 

Help me up-stairs with these packages, Mrs. 
Oldham, and then come down-stairs and find the 
girls." 

After a few minutes the speakers left the din¬ 
ing-room and went up the front stairs, and the 

girls had a chance to look around. 

245 


246 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

“ That book/^ Joan lectured Mary Alice, is 
in plain sight under that chair. You know what 
a careful housekeeper Mrs. Oldham is; she would 
see it and pick it up the very first thing, before 
we have had a chance to look at it ourselves.’^ 

You are not so good at hiding things, either,’’ 
Mary Alice chuckled. 

‘‘ You can’t see this box,” Joan maintained. 

No, but suppose Miss King had come into the 
room? ” 

I don’t see-” 

Well, you don’t sit crouched in a chair when 
she comes in, do you? You would want to get 
up, and then where would the box be? ” 

That’s true,” Joan laughed. Can’t you im¬ 
agine me about half standing up to acknowledge 
her greeting, but trying at the same time to hover 
over the chair? I should probably have such an 
agonized expression on my face that she would 
think I was sick.” 

Instead of talking about how you might have 
looked, let’s talk about how you are going to look 
when Mrs. Oldham comes back, and we haven’t 
concealed these things.” 

‘‘Oh, quick,” Joan exclaimed. “Miss King 
told her to come down-stairs and look for us.” 



JOAN CHOOSES A WHITE DRESS 247 

“ But where shall we hide them? ” 

“ You put the silver box in the secret drawer/’ 
Joan suggested hastily. '' I’ll find a place to hide 
the book.” 

Mary Alice snatched up the silver box and ran 
to the desk, and Joan reached for the book. She 
held it in her hand and began to look for a place 
to hide it. In all that room she could not see a 
space that would safely conceal a book! There 
were several drawers in tables and bookcases, but 
she could visualize some one walking in and open¬ 
ing one of them and being attracted to this book 
immediately. There was no room behind the, 
bookcases, and she was afraid to stick it under¬ 
neath, because of Mrs. Oldham’s thorough clean¬ 
liness. 

Mary Alice raised up from shutting the secret 
drawer, and stared at Joan in amazement. 

Haven’t you put that book out of sight yet? ” 
she cried. I hear Mrs. Oldham coming down 
the stairs! ” 

Then Joan remembered a story of Poe’s that 
she had once read, in which a letter was concealed 
from skilled detectives by leaving it in plain sight 
in a letter-holder. With a chuckle of satisfaction 
Joan stuck the book among the other volumes 


248 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

in the bookcase on top of the desk, just as Mrs. 
Oldham bustled into the room. 

Joan thought that she gave them a sharp glance 
and scanned the desk quickly, too, but she only 
said, Miss King wants you to come to her room 
as soon as you can.’^ 

The girls waited until Mrs. Oldham had gone 
to the kitchen and then scurried up the stairs and 
tapped at Miss King’s door. She called a cheery 
Come in ” and they entered. 

“ Sit down,” Miss King continued, while I 
untie these packages.” 

These packages ” looked very fascinating to 
Joan, because they were labelled: 

BOONE’S DRY-GOODS STORE 

Unpack Immediately to Prevent Mussing 

I have brought out several attractive white 
frocks,” Miss King said, smiling at Joan. I 
think that we can find a satisfactory dress for you 
among the assortment. Let’s try them on. Good¬ 
ness,” she added, giving Joan a closer scrutiny, 
where did you get so dirty? ” 

Joan heard Mary Alice thrust her feet quickly 
under her chair, and she^ looked down to see her 


JOAN CHOOSES A WHITE DRESS 249 


own slippers dirty and scuffed, her dress dusty 
and cobwebby, and a great streak of black on one 
hand. It was tunnel-dirt, but she did not want to 
explain that to Miss King. She looked up in dis¬ 
tress. 

Fortunately, though. Miss King did not seem 
to think it unusual for girls to be mussed, for 
she had already turned back to the boxes. 

Run in and wash, and then hurry back,’^ she 
admonished them. I’m anxious to see Joan in 
these frocks.” 

The girls hurried out of the room and down the 
hall. 

Do give me something to wipe this dust off 
my shoes, and please brush that long cobweb out 
of your hair,” Mary Alice said as soon as they 
were in Joan’s room. 

“All right,” Joan laughed. “But you wash 
your face; it has a great splotch all over one 
cheek.” 

After a few minutes they returned to Miss 
King’s room, and Joan was soon considering a 
half-dozen white dresses. One, of heavy white 
crepe, very plain, trimmed only with narrow 
tucks, fitted her perfectly and was just the sort of 
frock that Joan wore best. 


250 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

“ That’s the dress you shall have,” smiled Miss 
King, easily seeing which one the girl preferred. 

“ It’s such a lovely dress,” Joan exclaimed with 
pleasure as she slipped it carefully over her head 
and then stood caressing the soft fabric. “ Do 
you—think it is all right for me to take the 
dress? ” she added hesitatingly. No one has 
ever given me a dress before, and Mother isn’t 
here for me to ask.” 

It is quite all right for you to take the dress, 
Joan. You are being a little companion to me 
for the next four or five months, and I am taking 
care of you.” 

I am so happy to have it,” Joan began when 
Mary Alice spoke. 

That’s the best dress that Boone’s have had 
all summer,” she stated, but I heard Mrs. Boone 
complaining the other day that no one in Fame 
appreciated it because it wasn’t elaborate.” 

Mary Alice, Joan knew, intended only to praise 
her taste, but the words made her feel uncom¬ 
fortable. 

I—I- ” she began, laying aside the lovely 

frock and picking up another dress, a dress with 
a big lace collar and a number of unnecessary 
ribbons hanging off. I don’t know the value of 



JOAN CHOOSES A WHITE DRESS 251 


these dresses, Miss King, but I would rather 
choose one of the least expensive ones.’’ 

Nonsense,” Miss King spoke firmly, taking 
the beribboned frock from Joan’s fingers. The 
tucked dress is the dress you are to have.” And, 
to confirm her statement, she hastily tied up the 
others. Mr. Boone said that he and his wife 
would be taking a drive to-night, and that he 
would stop and get the dresses I am not going to 
keep; so it is all settled.” 

You are so nice to me,” Joan whispered, 
slipping her hand into Miss King’s and finding it 
easy to do. For Miss King, her cheeks flushed 
with interest and excitement, and her hair blown 
about by the drive home, did not look half so 
cold and forbidding as, usual. Even Mary Alice 
noticed the change, for she said, Why, Miss 
King, your hair is curly.” 

‘‘Yes, it is slightly wavy. Hadn’t you noticed 
that before? ” Miss King laughed, smoothing the 
flying tendrils back with her hand, and then going 
to the dresser to pat them closer into place. 

“ Oh, no, don’t pat it down hard,” Joan begged. 
“ It is so pretty as it is. I know it must be long. 
Would you let me comb it? I just love to comb 
any one’s hair.” 


252 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Do let her/^ cried Mary Alice, and Miss King, 
after a moment’s confused hesitation, consented. 

Joan brushed the long strands of wavy gray 
hair; then pulled them softly over Miss King’s 
forehead and ears, and pinned a loose knot low 
on the back of her head. By the time she had 
finished Mary Alice returned from her room with 
a silvery-purple ribbon of velvet. She unfastened 
Miss King’s severe white collar, turned it back in 
soft lines around her neck, and tied the ribbon 
under it in a deft bow. 

Although the girls had been watching the 
change, when they stepped back for a final view 
they nearly gasped at the transformation. 

Miss King got up and turned to the mirror. 
She blinked her eyes once, as if she were not 
quite certain that it was May King; then she 
spoke in astonishment. 

Why—why, I didn’t realize that I had been 
looking so grim and—and unnecessarily un¬ 
pleasant. What have you two magicians done to 
me? ” 

We really didn’t do a thing,” Joan protested. 

It was all there when we started; we just un¬ 
covered it a little.” 

‘‘I’m sure that it was magic.” Miss King 


JOAN CHOOSES A WHITE DRESS 253 

laughed a little, a sort of trickly, young little 
laugh that Joan had never heard before. I shall 
have to have you come and dress me each morn¬ 
ing,’^ she added. 

I’d love to,” Joan said earnestly. 

Shall we go down-stairs now? It must be 
nearly supper-time.” 

Wait just a minute while I run for a hankie,” 
Mary Alice cried, flying from the room. 

Joan turned for a last glimpse of her lovely 
new frock. Miss King smiled at her. 

I’m glad that we found one that you like,” 
she said. 

You are so nice to me,” Joan half whispered. 

I—I want to call you Auntie May. Do you— 
still want me to? ” 

Miss King stood still, staring into space. I’m 
afraid,” she murmured. 

Joan knew that she was not speaking to her, 
but was talking to some part of herself that was 
far away. 

I’m—afraid,” she whispered again, and then 
suddenly shook herself awake. Yes, yes I do,” 
she said to Joan, and put her arm around her. ‘‘ I 
should love it.” 

Then Mary Alice came back, and Miss King, 


254 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

with an arm around each of them, led the way 
down the long stairs. 

Mary Alice chatted gayly, but Joan could not 
speak. She was too happy, for Miss King liked 
her after all. Now she could write to her mother 
that letter she had put off for so long. She could 
tell her how pretty Miss King was, with her soft 
gray hair and her flushed cheeks. She could talk 
unrestrainedly about the new frock and the room 
she was to decorate. 

Mrs. Oldham will not approve of my hair,’’ 
Miss King whispered to them chummily, as they 
entered the dining-room. 

Mrs. Oldham, though, did not seem to notice 
anything, and, with her eyes on her plate, did not 
speak at all, except once when she looked up from 
her soup and remarked that her ball of twine was 
gone from the kitchen-cabinet. 

The girls turned startled faces towards each 
other. They suddenly remembered that they had 
had the twine the afternoon they had measured 
the house for the secret room. Joan had no idea 
what they had done with it, and she knew from 
Mary Alice’s confused face that she could not 
remember either. Miss King, noting their em¬ 
barrassment, laughed and said, I think the girls 


JOAN CHOOSES A WHITE DRESS 255 

have had it; they will hunt it up for you some 
time to-morrow.’’ 

By the time supper was over Mr. Boone and 
his wife arrived. They stayed until long after 
ten o’clock, while Mary Alice and Joan got 
sleepier and sleepier. Finally they left, and Miss 
King, who had noticed the girls’ tired faces, ad¬ 
vised them to run to bed, while she finished go¬ 
ing over some accounts in the library. 

Although they were sleepy, they had hoped to 
have a chance to get the silver box and take it 
to their rooms, but now there was nothing for 
them to do but go up-stairs without seeing it 
again. 

They got ready for bed in silence, so tired from 
the events of the day that their eyes would hardly 
stay open. Finally Joan tumbled into her white 
bed, and a minute later she heard Mary Alice 
turn out her light and jump in. 

Joan had closed her eyes and was half asleep 
when Mary Alice called softly, “ I’m afraid to 
leave it there.” 

Joan knew at once what she meant. I am 
sure that if we had it, some of our luggage-keys 
would unlock it,” she called back. 

“ They will unlock it in the morning,” Mary 


256 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Alice replied, “ but I^m afraid to leave it there all 
night;^ 

Well, I’m afraid to prowl around to-night, 
because that man will undoubtedly be inspecting 
the passage to see what we were doing there. 
Besides, I’m so sleepy. Let’s leave it in the desk 
until morning; it will be safe. When we found 
the secret drawers no one had looked in them for 
years.” 

Maybe they hadn’t,” muttered Mary Alice, 
but when I slipped the silver box in that drawer 
the picture of Consuelo was not there! ” 


4 


5 


CHAPTER XX 


THE SILVER BOX DISAPPEARS 

Mary Alice woke Joan up the next morning. 

“You are a lazy thing/^ she exclaimed good- 
naturedly, as she pulled the pillow from under 
Joan’s head in an effort to get her up. 

“ I’m still sleepy,” Joan objected, clutching at 
her disappearing pillow. 

“ What makes you sleepy? Did you stay 
awake last night, or did you prowl around in the 
middle of the night without waking me? ” 

“ I went to sleep immediately. I suppose I 
was worn out from the tunnel trip and the bump 
on my head; anyway I went to sleep while you 
were still talking to me.” 

“ I know that you did. At least you heard me 
say that the picture of Consuelo was not in the 
desk when I put the silver box there? ” Mary 
Alice queried, perching on the foot of the bed. 

“ That’s the last thing I heard, and I knew that 
I ought to be excited about it, but I was just 
about asleep, and I couldn’t bear to wake up 
enough to be excited.” 


257 


258 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


‘‘ I suppose, though, we should have expected 
the picture to be gone, because Mrs. Oldham was 
prowling around the desk when we found it.” 

She probably has it.” 

But what in the world does she want with it? 
If Consuelo lived here so many years ago, what 
importance could her picture have now? ” 

And what connection can she have with the 
bright spot in the music-room carpet? ” 

That dog-rug in the music-room certainly 
made an impression on you, Joan,” Mary Alice 
laughed. 

“ Well, I can’t have lavender-taffeta curtains 
and a lavender-taffeta pillow in a room with a 
great big dog on the floor. You don’t think Miss 
King will want me to, do you? ” 

No, I don’t,” Mary Alice consoled her. I 
think Miss King will get a more appropriate rug, 
or find a piece of furniture to put there. Or, 
maybe, whatever was there will come back; 
maybe it came back last night! ” 

Joan chuckled and then continued soberly: 

Well, that dog-rug may not be connected with 
Consuelo, but I am sure of one thing—the silver 
box is. It, at least, looks as if it might have been 
put in the tunnel in Consuelo’s time.” 




THE SILVER BOX DISAPPEARS 259 


‘‘You know,’’ Mary Alice went on, ‘‘I didn’t 
say anything yesterday, but I don’t believe there 
was a thing in the world in that silver box. It 
was no heavier than the box itself should have 
been, and when I shook it, I couldn’t hear a thing 
inside.” 

“ I thought of that, too,” Joan answered re¬ 
gretfully. “ Won’t it be disappointing if it is 
just an empty box? ” 

“Well, there is one way to find out,” Mary 
Alice said decisively, “ and that is to go down 
and get it. Besides, I’m anxious to know if it is 
still there.” 

“ Oh, I think it will be there. Since Mrs. Old¬ 
ham doesn’t know that we put it in there, she is 
not very likely to open drawers that she thinks 
are empty.” 

“ That’s true enough, but I’m a little bit wor¬ 
ried. Let’s hurry down and see if it is safe.” 

“ All right.” 

“You’ll have to get up first,” Mary Alice ad¬ 
monished. 

But by the time Joan was dressed, Mrs. Old¬ 
ham was calling them to breakfast and they did 
not have a chance to reach the library. The 
breakfast seemed a leisurely and long-drawn-out 


260 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

meal to the impatient girls, but finally it was 
over. 

Then, just as they sprang up, with their faces 
turned eagerly towards the dining-room door, 
Miss King spoke. 

“ Joan, come into the library with me. I want 
to talk to you for a few minutes. Perhaps in the 
meantime Mary Alice will help Mrs. Oldham 
with the dishes.’^ 

Of course I will,” answered Mary Alice, start¬ 
ing immediately to clear the table. 

Joan and Miss King went into the library, 
where Miss King sat down by the table and 
motioned Joan into a chair near by. 

Joan,” she began abruptly, “ did your mother 
tell you that I had suggested that you could at¬ 
tend the college in Fame while you are here? 
That will be, approximately, the first semester, 
and should enable you to start in at Mrs. Had- 
don’s School with your class the second semester.” 

I remember that you mentioned the Fame 
College in your letter to Mother,” Joan answered 
briefly. “ I—I—Mother and I didn’t speak of 
it, though.” She hated the very word “ school,” 
because it brought to her mind all the bitterness 
of her disappointment in not entering Mrs. Had- 


THE SILVER BOX DISAPPEARS 261 

don’s with her chums. She and her mother had 
not mentioned the college part of the arrange¬ 
ments after the first day, when Mrs. Kellogg had 
said that there was not enough money for Joan to 
go to Mrs. Haddon’s. Mrs. Kellogg had not re¬ 
ferred to the suggestion in Miss King’s letter, and 
Joan had rightly guessed that it was because 
there was not enough money even to pay the 
smaller tuition of Fame College. 

Now Joan answered Miss King briefly, because 
she did not want to talk about her college work, 
and she hoped that Miss King would not speak 
of it any more. She did not want to tell Miss 
King that she had no money to spend on tuition 
or even books, and, remembering how she had 
cried when she had had to say that she could not 
afford a white dress, she hoped that Miss King 
would not press her for an answer now. 

Perhaps Miss King understood Joan’s silence 
better than she had when the white dress was 
mentioned. Anyway she continued slowly, I 
wonder if you will do something for me, Joan? ” 
Of course I will,” Joan cried eagerly,—any¬ 
thing that I can do.” 

I want you to let me send you to college this 
first semester. Now don’t say anything until I 


262 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

have finished/’ Miss King added hastily, as Joan 
started to protest. 

Joan remained silent, but it was several min¬ 
utes before Miss King continued: Many, many 
years ago a very unhappy girl at your mother’s 
home in New York City was getting ready to go 
to a Christmas party. She was unhappy because 
she had received a letter telling her that she 
could not finish her senior year in Mrs. Haddon’s 
School since her father was in financial difficulties. 
Naturally the letter was a great blow to her, and 
there were traces of tears in her eyes when your 
mother came in to get her to go down-stairs. 
The girl was proud, and did not want to admit 
the truth, but your mother grew so worried for 
fear something unpleasant had happened during 
the vacation that the girl finally showed her the 
letter. Then-” 

Again Miss King paused, her gaze fixed on the 
distant window. When Joan stirred irresolutely, 
she quickly went on. 

That is almost all of the story, Joan. The 
girl, of course, was I. Your grandfather—your 
mother’s father—offered me the money to finish 
my senior year, but my pride wouldn’t let me 
accept, much as I wanted to. I went back from 



THE SILVER BOX DISAPPEARS 263 


the Christmas vacation at your mother’s home 
very, very miserable, although, since the semes¬ 
ter wasn^t over until the last of January, I kept 
hoping that I would get a letter from my father 
saying that he could send the money. Instead, 
when the letter did come, it contained money for 
my fare home, and I went sadly to the office to 
tell Mrs. Haddon that I was leaving. You can 
imagine my surprise when she said that my tui¬ 
tion had been paid. 

' But,’ I gasped, ^ I Have Just received a letter 
with money to come home! ’ 

“ Then Mrs. Haddon told me that the tuition 
had come with your mother’s, and that she had 
written my father asking him to accept the loan, 
rather than interrupt my last year of college. 

So my college career was unbroken, but the 
debt that I owed your grandfather was not paid 
when my father returned the money. It was a 
debt of kindness to a friend, and I want to pay 
it back to you. And I want you to accept it 
because it is a strange kind of debt,—one in which 
the debtor gets her satisfaction not in paying the 
debt, but in having the payment accepted, be¬ 
cause then the debtor knows that she has a real 
friend.” 


264 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Miss King paused, and Joan sat silent. Much 
as she wanted to go to school and keep up with 
her class, she still found it hard to accept so great 
a loan from Miss King. 

I—I hardly know what to say,” she stam¬ 
mered. I should love to have the chance to 
keep up with my class back home, but—^but I 
would have to have money for everything, tui¬ 
tion, books, and even clothes if I went to school, 
and—and, although I know the money doesn’t 
matter to you because you have plenty, I hate to 
take so much-” 

“ Yes, I have plenty of money for your semes¬ 
ter at Fame,” Miss King answered with a strange 
little smile, and I hope that you will accept it, 
Joan. Don’t think about the money part of it— 
think instead how happy you will make me by 
accepting. If you wish, we can call it a small 
loan which your father can repay any time that 
is convenient for him.” 

“ What do you think Mother would tell me to 
do? ” Joan questioned thoughtfully. 

I am sure, from the tone of your mother’s 
letters, that the deepest regret she has is the fact 
that you cannot go to Mrs. Haddon’s this semes¬ 
ter. My plan will make it possible for you to 



THE SILVER BOX DISAPPEARS 265 


go there next semester, and I am sure that your 
mother will feel that this is a sensible thing to 
do, and will not object to my sending you. But 
don’t try to answer me now, Joan; think it over 
and write to your mother. While you are wait¬ 
ing for her answer, you and Mary Alice can study 
for the entrance exams. Mary Alice, you know, 
is going to Fame College this winter.” 

Just then Mrs. Oldham came in with the mail, 
and laid a sheaf of newspapers and letters and a 
large package before Miss King. Instead of leav¬ 
ing, the housekeeper stood in the doorway and 
announced that she was ready to sweep and dust 
the library. 

All right, Mrs. Oldham,” Miss King replied, 
^‘you may have the library now. I’ll go to my 
room to look over my mail, and Joan can find 
Mary Alice.” 

Joan hurried into the kitchen to tell Mary 
Alice that it would be another hour before they 
could look in the desk for the silver box. 

“ Then the thing for us to do,” Mary Alice de¬ 
cided, after listening to her story, “ is to help 
Mrs. Oldham dust, or this box will get away from 
us as the picture did.” 

So the girls ventured into the library and of- 


266 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


fered their services to Mrs. Oldham, which were 
accepted. For more than an hour they dusted 
nooks and crannies, carried rugs into the yard to 
be swept, gathered new flowers, and did innumer¬ 
able more things that Mrs. Oldham named. 

Finally, when they were beginning to be ex¬ 
hausted, Mrs. Oldham decided that the room was 
spotless enough to satisfy even her cleanly taste, 
and they were through. The girls sat down in 
the window-seat, ostensibly to rest, but they only 
waited until they could hear the housekeeper in 
the kitchen, beating eggs for a luncheon custard, 
and then they hurried to the desk. 

At last,’’ Mary Alice murmured, letting down 
the lid, “ we are about to discover whether the 
box is here or isn’t here! ” 

Don’t stop to talk,” Joan insisted. “ Which 
drawer did you put it in? ” 

The right one,” Mary Alice answered, slid¬ 
ing out the false bottom of the pigeonhole and 
pressing the spring. 

Anxiously the girls leaned forward. Then 
Mary Alice turned to Joan with chagrin on her 
face. 

''It’s just as I expected,” she complained. 
" The box is gone! ” 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE LETTER 

Are you sure?^’ Joan asked, although she 
could see, as plainly as Mary Alice, that the 
drawer was empty. “ Maybe you put it in the 
other drawer? she added hopefully. 

I’ll look in the other drawer,” Mary Alice 
replied. But I know that it isn’t there. I put 
it in this one,—the same one that had Consuelo’s 
picture in it.” 

The other drawer was empty, too, and the girls 
stared at each other in dismayed anger. 

‘‘ Now we may never know whether there was 
anything in the silver box or not,” Mary Alice 
moaned, while Joan nodded regretfully. 

For a few minutes the girls were silent, and 
then Joan exclaimed, “ Well, at least the book is 
here. I saw it when I dusted.” 

Let’s have a look at it,” Mary Alice agreed. 
“ It’s not as interesting as the silver box, but it 
may have the man’s name on the fly-leaf, or be 
inscribed, * To my best cell-mate and fellow 
prisoner.’ ” 

“ It will probably have absolutely nothing in 

267 


268 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

it/^ Joan answered morosely, taking the book 
from the place she had put it in the top of the 
bookcase-secretary. 

I don’t imagine that it will, either,” added 
Mary Alice, as Joan handed her the novel. “ It’s 
only a volume of Scott, and I know where the rest 
of the set is.” 

You do? ” Joan gasped. 

For reply Mary Alice went over to one of the 
bookcases and slipped the book into the shelves, 
where it was immediately lost among ten or 
fifteen other volumes of the same binding. 

How did you know that? ” cried Joan. 

“ I noticed this set of Scott when I was dust¬ 
ing,” Mary Alice explained; it has such an at¬ 
tractive red-and-gold binding. And of course I 
recognized the binding as soon as you handed me 
the book we found in the tunnel.” 

The man evidently was borrowing it to read,” 
Joan guessed. He probably has lots of leisure 
time, despite the fact that he always seems to 
be prowling around.” 

It’s funny,” Mary Alice mused, still standing 
by the bookcase, “ that he should be so bold as 
to come into the library in the daytime, as he 
did that afternoon we were reading here.” 


THE LETTER 


269 


‘‘ Maybe he listened and didn’t hear any one.” 

Perhaps, but it seems to me that he was tak- - 
ing a pretty big chance of running into some¬ 
body, Miss King, for instance.” 

Mrs. Oldham probably told him that Miss 
King was driving her to her sick sister’s. That 
was the afternoon she went, you remember? Un¬ 
doubtedly she tells him her plans.” 

But he must have known that we were visit¬ 
ing here,” argued Mary Alice, and I don’t think 
he wants us to see him either.” 

“ I have it,” Joan exclaimed, after a few min¬ 
utes. Do you recall what Miss King said that 
morning when she told us she was leaving? ” 

She said—she invited us to go along, or, 
rather, she said that she would have invited us, 
but that it was hot and she wanted to visit a 
friend who was ill.” 

More than that,” Joan exclaimed trium¬ 
phantly. She said that she had told Mrs. Old¬ 
ham that she was going to take us, and had since 
remembered the sick friend! ” 

“And recall,” Mary Alice cried, catching the 
inference, “ how startled Mrs. Oldham was when 
she discovered that we weren’t going. She was 
flurried and angry. I’m sure that she had told 


270 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

the man that the house would be vacant, and that 
he might come inT 

I know that is it,” Joan agreed. He came 
for his luncheon, and decided to take a book back 
with him.” 

Mary Alice had drawn the book again from its 
shelf and was looking at it curiously. Imagine,” 
she murmured; ^‘he was reading The Bride oj 
Lammermoor in that spooky old mill. I should 
have been scared—Joan! ” Mary Alice broke o£P 
abruptly, and Joan watched in amazement as the 
book trembled in her fingers. 

What is it?” Joan breathed, as her friend 
continued to stare at the open pages of the novel. 

IVe^—I’ve found the picture of Consuelo 
May,” she answered, her voice trembling with ex¬ 
citement. It’s here, stuck between the pages of 
this book.” 

Joan hurried to her side, and peered at the 
faded picture of the young Consuelo May as it 
lay calmly on the pages Scott had devoted to the 
struggles of the unfortunate Lucy Ashton. 

“ It’s quite plain,” Joan said quietly. The 
afternoon we went to the mill to spy on the man, 
he came here, got the novel, and took the picture 
of Consuelo from the desk.” 



THE LETTER 


271 


Yes/^ Mary Alice answered, and picked up the 
picture. Underneath was a sheet of folded paper 
that had been concealed by the picture. 

Without a word Joan reached gingerly for the 
paper. It was spotted and yellow and crackled 
a warning when she carefully opened it. There 
was writing on the inside, but it was very dim. 
The girls ran hastily to the window-seat to read 
the faded lines. The words started abruptly: 

so I left my jewel-case—you remember the secret 
hiding-place of my childhood, and how I once 
stuck my big dolly too far in, and she fell 
through? Oh, the tears that were shed then! 

I had arrived at the mill too early, and, while 
waiting, I suddenly remembered what was in the 
jewel-case, and 1 dashed back to leave it. But 
some one was in the kitchen, and I was afraid to 
come in. I couldn’t wait longer, because, as I 
have already written, Roderick didn’t know 
whether I was coming to the mill or not—please 
believe me—and he had little hope of my flee¬ 
ing with him, although I had promised to come 
to the mill to say good-bye if I would not go. 
So I left the jewel-case where I used to leave my 
dolly, and hastened back to the mill. 

I will mail this letter the first thing when we 
land, although you must have guessed long ago 
where I went, and with whom. 

I am very, very happy with my husband, a 
happiness that will be complete if you will write 
me just three words, I forgive you.” C. 




272 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


Why—^why-Joan exclaimed vaguely, 

handing the paper back to Mary Alice. What 
does it mean? 

“It must be the last page from a letter. A 
jewel-case, it says first. Do you suppose the sil¬ 
ver box we found was a jewel-case? 

“You think-Joan began, and then she 

suddenly saw the facts of the letter dovetailing 
with the facts of their visit to the tunnel. 

“ I understand part of it,’^ she cried. “ The 
y^riter says that she was going to the mill, and 
then ran back to the kitchen and some one was 
there; so she left the case on her way back to 
the mill. And she left it in a hiding-place where 
her dolly had once fallen through. There must 
have been a niche of some sort in the walled-up 
door to the secret room. Probably a rock had 
fallen out, and here she had had a hiding-place, 
and here her dolly was stuck too far in and tum¬ 
bled through to the secret room. And here, in 
her hurry, she stuck her jewel-case, knowing that 
it would be safe until this letter was received.” 

“ And, of course, when the rocks tumbled in 
with you,” Mary Alice went on with the story, 
“the jewel-case fell down and hit you on the 
head.” She hesitated doubtfully. “ Still, Joan, 




THE LETTER 


273 


we didn^t see any dolly, and we must have been 
the first ones to break through to the secret 
room.’’ 

But a doll on a damp earth floor wouldn’t be 
much of a doll after years, would it? Moreover, 
the rocks fell in and covered up the very place 
where it must have been lying,” Joan continued. 

That’s true,” agreed Mary Alice thoughtfully, 
as she looked again at the letter. It is signed 
‘ C.’ I’m sure that it is Consuelo, and that Con- 
suelo is the white-satin girl.” 

^^And she did get married after all,” Joan 
agreed. 

And she eloped, don’t you think? Doesn’t it 
sound fascinating? Slipping out of the house— 
through a tunnel—meeting her lover in an old 
mill—and being married in that beautiful white- 
satin dress-” 

That last doesn’t fit,” Joan objected. She 
says in the letter that when he came to the mill 
he didn’t know she was going with him; so she 
must have made up her mind at the last minute. 
Under those circumstances I doubt if she would 
have an elaborate white-satin wedding-dress all 
ready to elope in.” 

I suppose you are right,” Mary Alice granted. 



274 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


But I do feel that Consuelo is the white-satin 
girl/’ She looked at the picture of the baby Con¬ 
suelo May. 

'' So do I,” admitted Joan, but this baby, 
Consuelo May of Santiago, Chile, had to grow up 
for several years before she was big enough to 
elope.” 

Here we are, arguing about the wedding- 
dress, again,” Mary Alice said suddenly, when 
the important thing in the letter is the jewel-case, 
and the important thing about that is why she 
decided at the last moment not to take it with 
her.” 

We are both sure that there weren’t any 
jewels in it when we found it,” Joan replied 
thoughtfully. Even the smallest ring would 
have made a rattle that we could have heard.” 

“ Maybe she decided that she could carry her 
jewels more easily if they were not in that silver 
case,” Mary Alice suggested. But it seems 
rather funny that she took so much trouble about 
the empty case,” 

But it wasn’t empty,” Joan objected, as she 
consulted the letter, “ because she says that she 
came back with the case when she suddenly re¬ 
membered what was in it. There was something 


THE LETTER 275 

in there that she definitely did not want to take 
with her.” 

I don’t know what became of it, then,” Mary 
Alice said, but I bet this letter explains what 
the man was looking for.” 

“A jewel-case with no jewels in it! ” scoffed 
Joan. 

“We are the ones who know that the case 
didn’t have any jewels in it. Look at the letter; 
if he had only this one page, he wouldn’t know 
that the case was empty, for the writer just says 
‘ my jewel-case.’ ” 

“Yes, that’s true,” Joan agreed, scanning the 
letter. “ It only says ^ jewel-case,’ and not a word 
about jewels being in it; or, for that matter, not 
being in it.” 

“ At least he has the case now, and knows that 
it doesn’t have any jewels in it! ” 

“You mean,” Joan corrected, “that the pic¬ 
ture disappeared from the secret drawer, and he 
had it; and now the case has gone, and he prob¬ 
ably has that, too.” 

“ I insist that it is the same thing,” Mary Alice 
maintained. “ There is no doubt in my mind 
where the jewel-case is.” 

“ There’s not much in mine, either. But let’s 


276 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


put these things where he can never find them,” 
Joan said, taking the picture and the letter in 
her hands. 

“ Let’s do,” Mary Alice agreed, returning the 
book to the case. But is there such a place? ” 
Of course there is,” insisted Joan. “ I am go¬ 
ing to take them to my room and fold them up 
in a handkerchief and put them among the others 
in my handkerchief-box. I think that will be 
safe, don’t you? ” 

Again Mary Alice agreed. Hide them deep, 
and then come back and let’s talk the whole thing 
over.” 

Joan hurried up the front stairs and ran quietly 
down the hall. Since she came first to Mary 
Alice’s door, she opened it with a fleeting idea of 
putting the papers in the heavy dictionary in 
that room, in preference to the handkerchief-box. 
As she paused to shut the door behind her she 
heard a sound from her own room. 

Startled, she leaned against the door and lis¬ 
tened breathlessly. She could just make out the 
sound of footsteps stealthily crossing her floor, 
but she could not tell whether they were coming 
towards Mary Alice’s room, or whether they were 
going towards the hall door. Then she heard the 



The innocent little pink-and-white room was in a 
WOFUL STATE.—Page 277 . 







' V - 

L » 

ii 

& ^ 


4 


■A 



' s 

•i 





n 


'•■i 


I 


n 


I 




\:-a 


A 


i 


I 


THE, LETTER 277 

hall door softly close, and she knew that the in¬ 
truder had left her room. 

For a second more she stood paralyzed, and 
then she dashed across Mary Aliceas room and 
threw open the dividing door. One swift glimpse 
of her room left Joan almost more angry than 
frightened. The innocent little pink-and-white 
room was in a woful state. The dresser-drawers 
were standing open, with their contents pulled 
awry and half hanging out, her traveling-case 
had been dragged to the middle of the floor and 
emptied on the rag rug, and the pillows and 
covers of her bed had been hastily pulled off. 

If I hadn’t scared him away, I wonder if he 
would have straightened things up before he 
left?” Joan muttered to herself as she shut the 
dresser-drawers, piled the clothing back into her 
bag, and remade the bed. 

Then she went out, carefully closing the door 
behind her, and went slowly down-stairs to Mary 
Alice with the letter and the picture still in her 
hands. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE SILVER BOX IS FOUND 

When Joan entered the library Mary Alice was 
sitting in front of the desk, eyeing it somewhat 
sternly. 

Oh, Mary Alice! ’’ Joan cried excitedly. 

Sh-h-h,” Mary Alice cautioned. You donT 
need to tell any one but me.’^ Her eyes fell on 
the articles in Joan’s hand. I thought you went 
up-stairs to hide those? ” 

“ I didn’t dare leave them in my room,” said 
Joan, lowering her voice and trying to sit calmly 
in a chair. Some one was searching my room! ” 
“ What? Who? ” Mary Alice exclaimed. 

Sh-h-h,” cautioned Joan in her turn. 

“You are justified in that retort,” Mary Alice 
grinned. “ I am properly subdued. But do tell 
me what you are talking about. Imagine some 
one searching your room! ” 

“ All through my dresser-drawers,” Joan 
moaned, “ and they upset my traveling-bag, and 
mussed up the bed, and you know how I hate to 
make beds! ” 

Joan went on to tell how she had entered Mary 

278 


THE SILVER BOX IS FOUND 279 

Aliceas room, heard the prowler, but had arrived 
too late to see him. 

‘‘ Was anything missing? Mary Alice cried as 
she finished. 

Not a thing that I could discover. My money 
was in my purse in the top dresser-drawer, and it 
wasn^t touched, although the drawer was mussed 
up.^^ 

Then I bet the person was looking for the 
very things you have in your hand.^’ 

You mean the picture and the letter? 

Yes.^^ 

That’s what I thought,” Joan said. “ What¬ 
ever shall I do with the things though? I was 
afraid to leave them in my room.” 

Put them in your pockets, out of sight, right 
now,” Mary Alice admonished. Mrs. Oldham 
may come in any minute.” 

I suppose that it was the man in the mill 
who was in my room,” Joan murmured. As 
far as we know, he is the only person who knows 
that we have the Scott novel—only, of course, he 
might have told Mrs. Oldham. Do you suppose 
it was Mrs. Oldham ? ” 

I don’t know, but I hardly think so. Some¬ 
how I can’t imagine her making a muss in your 


280 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

room as you describe it. She’s too clean and 
orderly, even if she was in a great hurry.” 

“ I think it was the man, myself,” Joan ad¬ 
mitted. 

''Joan,” Mary Alice said suddenly, “I don’t 
believe the man was after the picture and the 
letter.” 

" What on earth was he looking for, then? ” 

" The very thing he was looking for in the tun¬ 
nel.” 

" You mean the silver box? ” Joan was puzzled. 

But I thought we decided that he got the silver 
box out of the desk? ” 

" I don’t mean the silver box, but what was in 
the silver box—Consuelo’s jewel-case. You see, 
he knows that we probably found the jewel-case 
in the tunnel-room, and we know that he prob¬ 
ably got it from the desk last night. Now I’m 
quite sure that it contained no jewels, but he 
must have expected to find something in it. At 
least a sane man would not hunt for an empty 
box. Now he got the box from the desk and 
found it empty. What would he naturally 
think? ” 

" That we had managed to get it open,” Joan 
exclaimed. 


THE SILVER BOX IS FOUND 281 

“Exactly. So he looks in your room for the 
contents! And if you hadn’t interrupted him, 
he would probably have looked in mine too.” 

“ That sounds very logical.” 

“ I think it does, too,” Mary Alice sighed com¬ 
placently. “Now I have explained your mys¬ 
tery; I wish you would explain mine.” 

“ Yours? Do you mean to say that something 
happened to you while I was gone? ” Joan gasped. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Oh, tell me, Mary Alice. I didn’t make you 
wait.” 

“ Look at this desk closely,” Mary Alice said. 

“ It looks very neat, as it should, since Mrs. 
Oldham has just been cleaning in here.” 

“ But look at it closely, Joan. Don’t you see 
anything different?” 

“ Why, no,” Joan was bewildered. “ It looks 
just as it did the day we hunted and hunted for 
the spring to the secret drawers.” 

“My, but you are unobserving,” Mary Alice 
laughed. “ I should make you find the change 
yourself, but I’ll give you a cue. Do you remem¬ 
ber how we convinced ourselves that there was a 
secret drawer in the desk that day? ” 

“Why, yes,” Joan exclaimed. “We stuck a 


282 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

piece of paper through that little crack in the 
panel.’’ 

“ What crack? ” Mary Alice was enjoying her¬ 
self hugely. 

“ Why, Mary Alice, this crack in the pa-” 

Joan broke off abruptly, and leaned closer to the 
desk. She spoke slowly, dazedly: There isn’t 
any crack here! ” 

“ No, the crack is gone,” Mary Alice agreed 
complacently. 

“ Are we dreaming? I can’t understand it at 
all,” Joan cried. Where could a crack gol ” 

I guess it went with the desk.” 

You mean-” 

This isn’t the same desk! ” 

Joan stared at Mary Alice, so astonished that 
she could not speak for several minutes. “ Oh, 
but that’s preposterous! ” she finally exclaimed. 

The books are just as they were; everything 
looks the same.” 

Does it? Are you sure, Joan? The crack is 
gone, and the only explanation that I can think 
of is that this is another desk. Now that is the 
only difference I can really see, but somehow, 
when I stand back and look at this desk, I just 
feel that it isn’t the same one. Somehow the at- 




THE SILVER BOX IS FOUND 283 

mosphere of having come from England to 
Charleston many years ago, and of having seen 
years of service right here, seems to be gone. I 
suppose that is all fancy, but, Joan, I really 
thought of it before I noticed that this panel is 
not cracked.” 

But who could have changed the desk? ” Joan 
cried. “ And where, anyway, did this desk come 
from? ” 

“ Maybe it was sitting on the carpet in the 
music-room,” Mary Alice suggested. 

No, not there,” Joan decided. That spot is 
long and narrow, and this desk is shorter and 
thicker.” 

I guess it is,” Mary Alice admitted. Then 
I havenT the least idea where this desk came 
from, nor why it came, either.” 

“ Mary Alice, this mystery isnT amusing any 
more. I’m going to tell Miss King.” 

“ But remember what she said to us the 'other 
time we tried to tell her about the man in the 
mill and Consuelo? ” Mary Alice answered, but 
Joan knew from the tone of her voice that she 
was in sympathy with the resolve. 

** I remember. But I can’t believe that she 
knows everything that has been going on. I 


284 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

don't think that she knows anything about this 
man," Joan argued hotly, not so much with Mary 
Alice, who showed no signs of disagreeing with 
her, but with herself. I am sure that Miss King 
would not let him search my room if she did." 
She felt that she had to know whether Miss King 
was being kind to her and offering to send her to 
school and wanting to be friends, and then, be¬ 
hind her back, letting some man search through 
her personal belongings. 

All right. Let’s go to her once more," Mary 
Alice agreed. But you have to tell her." 

I will." 

Joan closed the desk and added: She must be 
in her room now. Anyway, the last time I saw 
her she was going up-stairs to read her mail." 

“ Let’s go up the back stairs," Mary Alice said. 

I want to get a drink." 

“ All right, but let’s hurry." 

The girls went into the kitchen and Mary Alice 
went on to the back porch, to pump a drink of 
cool cistern-water. Mrs. Oldham was not in the 
kitchen, and the custard she had been cooking 
was on the table, still in the cooking-pan. 

'' It’s strange that Mrs. Oldham, with all her 
cleanliness," Mary Alice commented between 


THE SILVER BOX IS FOUND 285 

slow sips of water, should cool a custard in the 
pan/’ 

Oh, let’s quit seeing things unusual,” Joan 
cried, so upset by her unpleasant thoughts about 
Miss King that she hardly knew what she was 
saying. “ Maybe, after all, we have just worked 
ourselves into a state of mind when natural 
things seem mysterious.” 

Um-m, maybe,” Mary Alice said dryly. ‘‘ But 
I would hate to think that everything that has 
happened lately has been an everyday occur¬ 
rence.” 

By this time the girls were at the top of the 
stairs, and Joan paused a minute to look in her 
room, partly from curiosity, but mostly because 
she was a little timid about approaching Miss 
King. 

Has any one been back? ” asked Mary Alice. 

I don’t think so. It is just as I left it.” 

Then they went on down the hall to Miss 
King’s room, and Joan tapped on the door. 
There was no answer until she rapped again quite 
loudly. Miss King’s faint Come in ” was en¬ 
tirely unlike her usual calm voice, and with a 
feeling of uneasiness Joan opened the door. 

Miss King was sitting in a low rocking-chair 


286 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

by the window, staring abstractedly into space. 
In the hand that dangled by her side was a legal- 
looking document, and on her lap lay the silver 
box. 

The jewel-case! ” Mary Alice exclaimed, but 
Joan could say nothing. Her heart grew heavy 
as she realized that Miss King had the jewel-case 
instead of the man, as they had thought. So 
perhaps Miss King had had her room searched, 
or, worse and worse, had searched it herself. 

As Mary Alice spoke, Miss King had given a 
little start, and turned towards them with a vague 
gesture. 

What do you know about this jewel-case? ’’ 
she asked sadly, and Joan thought that she had 
been crying. 

We know that it once belonged to Consuelo,” 
Joan slowly replied, and that she left it when 
she eloped.’^ 

If I only could have found it years ago,^^ Miss 
King muttered desperately, the heartaches it 
might have saved! ” 

The girls were quiet, not knowing what to do 
or say. Finally Miss King brushed the tears from 
her eyes, looked sadly at the jewel-case as it lay 
on her lap, and then turned abruptly to Joan. 


THE SILVER BOX IS FOUND 287 

“ I didn’t know/’ she began, “ I didn’t know 
that she left the jewel-case. When you under¬ 
stand that, you don’t feel that I treated her so 
badly, do you, Joan? ” 

I don’t know. Miss King.” Joan spoke gently. 

You see,'we don’t know much about it at all.” 

“ Of course you don’t,” Miss King cried ex¬ 
citedly, holding her hand to her head as if it were 
whirling around. I seem to be confused. But 
sit down and let me tell you. I must talk to 
some one. You are unprejudiced; maybe you can 
• tell me whether I acted unjustly, whether it was 
all my fault.” 

Awed and half frightened, the girls silently sat 
down on the floor at her feet. They were very 
quiet, and after a while Joan began to think Miss 
King had forgotten them. 

But finally she began slowly: I hadn’t been 
home from Mrs. Haddon’s School very long when 
my father died. After his death this house 
seemed lonelier than ever. My grief for him was 
only intensified by the absence of any relatives 
or friends, so I decided to get some one to stay 
with me. I didn’t want to get just a paid com¬ 
panion,—the friendship we can buy is never 
satisfactory,—but I had no near relatives or 


288 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


friends. However, I remembered a cousin of my 
father’s who had gone to California and married 
into a Spanish family. Shortly after the mar¬ 
riage her husband had decided to return to Spain 
and she was forced to go, too. I had known her 
well at one time, and we still corresponded at 
long intervals. I knew that she had, by now, a 
large family and that they were very poor; but 
it is probable that I would never have thought of 
taking one of her girls had she not at this time 

sent me a picture of her youngest daughter-” 

Consuelo May-” Joan breathed. 

‘‘Why, yes; that is, just Consuelo—Consuelo 
Galdos. The pictured face fascinated me, with 
its mixture of Spanish indolence and King sturdi¬ 
ness. Eventually I sent for her, and the little 
girl who came to me was a lovely, timid child. 
I was twenty-four then, and she was only a child, 
but I soon felt like her older sister, and became 
more and more attached to her as the years went 
on, until I forgot that she didn’t belong to me, 
and that others had a claim on her. By the time 
she was seventeen and a beautiful young girl, my 
whole life was devoted to her, and all my thoughts 
and plans were for her.” 

Miss King paused for a minute, and there was 




THE SILVER BOX IS FOUND 289 

a tender smile on her face as she thought of the 
girl whom she had loved. 

Then, abruptly, her mother wanted her back. 
The family in Spain had prospered with the 
years, and by this time all the children had mar¬ 
ried; so the mother began to want the one she 
had sent to me in her less fortunate days. Need¬ 
less to say, I was panic-stricken. I could not bear 
the thought of parting with Consuelo. You can 
see how I must have felt? Miss King begged of 
Joan, her voice rising hysterically. 

“ Yes, I understand,^’ Joan soothed her. “ It 
would have been a terrible shock to have the girl 
whom you had grown to love snatched away.” 

“ A shock,” she exclaimed eagerly, “ a terrible 
shock. That is what it was. The first letter had 
only hinted tentatively at the idea, and I did not 
tell Consuelo, but I knew that the demand was 
inevitably coming. I was sure that she did not 
want to return, for although her father was a 
Spaniard, her mother was an American and a 
King. And she had been so happy in America 
compared to the poverty-haunted days in Spain. 
Her friends here were the sweetest of the girls 
in Fame and the manliest of the boys, and Con¬ 
suelo always mingled gracefully and happily with 


290 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


them. The gay times this old house saw then- 

Miss King’s voice trailed away, and Joan’s mind 
went on and on, visioning the merry picture of 
the gay young people, as she knew Miss King 
was doing. 

Finally Miss King drew herself together with 
a jerk. Just at the time her mother’s letters 
were growing more and more insistent, without, 
just yet, having come to a definite demand, I 
found a way to keep Consuelo. A very good 
friend of mine, a man older than Consuelo, but 
attractive, intelligent, and a prominent man in 
the State, asked me for permission to marry her. 
I knew that if she were married, her mother 
would not ask her to return to Spain, and, al¬ 
though she would not be so much mine, she would 
still be close to me. So I arranged the wedding.” 

“ But what did Consuelo think of the man? ” 
whispered Mary Alice in the long silence that fol¬ 
lowed. 

Consuelo was a starry-eyed young girl, who 
was rather vague about everything at the time,” 
Miss King answered carefully. “ Coming from 
Spain, she was accustomed to the parents ar¬ 
ranging the marriages, and, although I insisted 
that she had the right to do as she wished, she 



THE SILVER BOX IS FOUND 291 


seemed very content with my plans. I can see 
now that she did not know at that time what love 
and marriage meant. She liked and respected the 
man, though, and thought that whatever I did 
was right, and made not the least objection to 
the marriage; so I went on with the plans. 

How I enjoyed arranging the wedding! Miss 
King continued, pleasant memories softening her 
voice. “We made a trip to Kansas City for her 
trousseau, and had a white-satin wedding-dress 
made while we were there,—the same dress, 
Joan,’’ she broke off, “ that I thought we could 
make over for you.” 

“ Yes, I know,” Joan answered. “ Mary Alice 
and I were sure that the dress was for Consuelo. 
We called her the white-satin girl before we knew 
her name.” 

“ The white-satin girl! How that fits her. 
She looked so beautiful in the dress, with the lace 
veil making her dark hair all misty, and the cream 
of the satin fading into the cream of her skin. 

“ When we came back from Kansas City there 
was only one more week before the wedding. 
There were innumerable parties being given for 
her in Fame, and I sent her in to stay, for the 
long drive back and forth was too trying for her. 


292 THE SECRET OF SCARED A CRES 


and I was busy with a general grand cleaning and 
great sessions of baking for the wedding/^ 

Miss King paused, and when she continued 
her voice was miserable. Consuelo stayed with 
a girl chum whose brother had a friend, a young 
mining engineer, who had stopped to visit on his 
way to Chile. The end of it was that the young 
stranger and Consuelo fell in love.” 

Chile,” whispered Mary Alice to Joan in the 
pause. “ The picture of Consuelo was from Chile 
and not from Spain! ” 

But,” Joan objected, also in a whisper, the 
picture is of a little girl, and Consuelo was grown 
by the time she eloped to Chile, if that is what 
happened.” 

Don’t you see? ” Mary Alice finished. “ The 
picture is Consuelo’s daughter—and her middle 
name is for Miss King herself! ” 

‘^Consuelo May,” breathed Joan; it must 
be.” 

Consuelo came back the day before the wed¬ 
ding,” Miss King went on, and I knew nothing 
of what had happened, although I knew that she 
seemed strangely quiet and sad, but I only 
thought it the natural reaction of a young girl 
who was to be married the next day. 


THE SILVER BOX IS FOUND 293 

That night I gave her my wedding present. 
We were sitting in her bedroom,—your room, 
Joan, the little pink-and-white room,—and all 
her wedding finery was laid out, since she was to 
be married early in the morning. Her bag was 
nearly packed for the wedding-trip, and her 
jewel-case lay open on the dresser, this same sil¬ 
ver jewel-case containing only some little things 
of her mother’s, for she didn’t have any valuable 
jewels. My wedding present was a deed to the 
pasture-land of Scared Acres. I intended,” Miss 
King stopped to explain, to rent the land back 
from her, so that she would always have an in¬ 
come and be independent of her husband. 
Though I didn’t realize it at the time, I can see 
now that my wish to make her independent of 
her husband was not so much pride as it was a 
feeling that Consuelo did not love the man she 
was marrying. 

She seemed very tired when she thanked me; 
so I laid the deed in her open jewel-case—it just 
fitted—and kissed her good-night.” 

just fitted,” whispered Mary Alice; “that 
is why it did not slip around and make any noise 
when we had the silver box.” 

.When Miss King went on her voice was un- 



294 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

steady. ‘‘ That was the last time I ever saw her. 
Some time that night she went away with the 
young engineer. You can imagine what a blow 
it was to me,—not only to my love but to my 
pride. I was up early the next morning, but I 
did not go to waken Consuelo until time for her 
to dress. 

“ She had left no note, but fortunately the 
chum’s brother missed his guest, and, suspecting 
the affair, called me. In spite of our frantic tele¬ 
phoning some of the guests arrived for the wed¬ 
ding -” Miss King broke off abruptly. “ I 

sha’n’t try to discuss that harrowing morning. 
I would not see any one, and after my friends had 
gone and I was here alone I knew some moments 
of black, black misery. My whole being was hurt 
with the thought that Consuelo had deliberately 
deceived me. You can imagine my feelings; it is 
too painful to retell them even now. 

I remembered the deed. Although she did 
not take any of the lovely trousseau—^how I wish 
she had, poor little Consuelo with her stolen 
romance—she had taken the deed. Not that I 
didn’t want her to have the land,—even in those 
first black days I didn’t wish that,—^but it seemed 
such a breach of love and faith to elope and take 




^ THE SILVER BOX IS FOUND 295 

with her my wedding-present for her marriage to 
another man, the man of my choice. It was one 
of those things that brand the people who do 
them—if you understand me. I felt that my 
very deep love for Consuelo had been tossed back 
to me in a careless, unfeeling way, and that she 
did not even value my good opinion. Then it 
was that I forbade the servants to mention her 
name, and, because I would not speak of her, the 
few people who knew of the romance with the 
young engineer respected my wishes and did not 
tell, so that her disappearance took on the aspects 
of a mystery.’’ 

Again Miss King’s fingers caressed the worn 
surface of the silver box. But now that the 
jewel-case has come to light, I realize that Con¬ 
suelo probably snatched it up that night without 
thinking of the deed, and when she got down¬ 
stairs she remembered it and left the case with 
the deed still in it. 

So, Joan, that is the reason I have been so 
upset over the finding of this silver box. To 
think that it has been in this house all these 
years that I have been refusing to have Con- 
suelo’s name mentioned in my presence. But I 
can’t understand why she did not write to me. 


296 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

I can imagine that that night she could not bring 
herself to tell me,—that is what made her so sad 
and distraught; but afterward she might have 
written, asking my forgiveness. I would have 

given it so readily if she had only asked- 

Miss King’s voice died away in a sob. 

She did write to you,” Joan breathed softly. 



CHAPTER XXIII 


THE LAST OF THE MAN IN THE MILL 

“ No.^’ Miss King shook her head in denial of 
Joan’s statement. I have never had one word 
from Consuelo. The man with whom she eloped 
was on his way to Chile, and I suppose they went 
there. I might have traced them through the 
firm of engineers for which he worked, but when 
Consuelo was willing to leave me so heartlessly 
after all of our years together, and made no effort 
to communicate with me, I would not write to 
her, although to know nothing about her wrung 
my heart again and again.” 

But-” Joan was puzzled, and fumbled in 

her pocket for the page of the letter, but isnT 
this part of a note to you? ” 

Miss King reached for the paper, without seem¬ 
ing to understand what Joan was talking about. 
She read it slowly, still dazed. She looked up 
once with a puzzled face, and then suddenly she 
uttered a sharp cry, and read through the page 
hastily. ' 

Joan, Joan, where did you get this? ” she 

cried, falling to her knees before Joan and grasp- 

297 



298 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

ing her shoulder. It’s—it’s from Consuelo; I 
know her handwriting. My dear Consuelo—she 
did write to me, she didn’t leave me without a 
word.” 

“ Even when you gave her the deed for a wed¬ 
ding-present she wasn’t sure that she was going,” 
Joan cried softly in justification of the white- 
satin girl; and then, after she went, she begged 
for your forgiveness to make her happiness com¬ 
plete.” 

And I never sent it to her,” Miss King 
moaned; but I never saw this letter before. 
The paper’s old and yellow. Where has it been 
all of these years while Consuelo has been wait¬ 
ing for my forgiveness? Where did you get it, 
Joan? ” 

The man had it,” Joan stammered. 

Man, man! What man? ” Miss King cried as 
she stared blankly at the girls. Oh, am I los¬ 
ing my mind? I can’t seem to understand you. 
What is it you are saying to me, Joan? ” 

The man in the mill had the letter.” 

“ The man in the mill? You might as well say 
the man in the moon. There is no man in the 
mill.” Miss King spoke sharply, seemingly em¬ 
barrassed by the emotion she had displayed. She 


LAST OF THE MAN IN MILL 299 

got up from the floor and sat down again in the 
low rocking-chair. 

^'What do you mean?’' she repeated. But 
Joan could only stare at her happily, a great re¬ 
lief flooding over her as she realized that Miss 
King had not known of the man who had been 
sneaking about the place. 

Speak,” Miss King commanded impatiently. 

Oh, please,” interrupted Mary Alice, we 
have discovered that there is a man living on the 
upper floor of the old mill.” 

A tramp, probably,” Miss King suggested, 
with an effort at calmness. There is often one 
stopping there, and so long as they don’t come 
around the house I never molest them. I sup¬ 
pose, by some of the strange signals they have, 
the fact is generally known in trampdom. But,” 
her voice grew lower, but Consuelo’s letter was 
not left in the mill for a tramp to find years later, 
was it? Oh, surely she would not leave it in the 
mill; she knew that I never went there.” Miss 
King’s eyes sought the letter again. No, it 
couldn’t have been left there, for she says that 
she will mail it as soon as they land, and that 
means Chile, I imagine. Where, Joan, did you 
find this letter? ” 


300 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


“ I don't think the man in the mill is a regu¬ 
lar tramp, Miss King. He—^he seems to know— 
at least, he comes to the house; and one day we 
followed him into the tunnel, and he heard us 
and fled, and left behind a book with this letter 
in it." 

The tunnel?" Miss King questioned in 
amazement. You mean the secret passage to 
the mill? It was boarded up years ago. I— 
why-" she broke off, and scanned the letter. 

Consuelo left the jewel-case in the tunnel and 
not in the desk, didn't she? She must have, be¬ 
cause I remember so well her little hiding-place 
where a stone had fallen out. How she cried one 
day when she stuck her dolly too far in and it 
tumbled through into a secret room that Grand¬ 
father King had built into the tunnel as an extra 
precaution. But—^but how did the jewel-case get 
in the desk? " 

I put it there," ventured Mary Alice. 

Miss King stared at the girls. You have been 
here for five days, and you have discovered a man 
in the mill, have been in the tunnel, and have 
found a secret drawer in my desk that I didn’t 
know was there! You—you have been very 
busy." As she said the last she smiled wanly, 




LAST OF THE MAN IN MILL 301 

and her eyes were sad but kind; so Joan found 
courage to explain further. 

‘‘The tunnel’s not boarded up,” she stated. 
“ Mary Alice and I have been through it. I fell 
through the rocks that had closed up the en¬ 
trance to the secret room, and the jewel-case must 
have fallen down and hit me on the head. Then 
the man heard the noise and ran away, leaving a 
book with this letter in it.” 

“ I don’t seem to understand at all,” Miss King 
said slowly. “ The tunnel and the jewel-case and 
the man—what does it all mean? ” 

“ Well, you see,” Mary Alice began, “ we 
shouldn’t have found the tunnel or the jewel-case 
if it hadn’t been for the man in the mill.” 

“ I think,” interrupted Miss King decisively, 
“ that we should question the man in the mill. 
Let’s go there, and on the way you can start at 
the beginning and tell me the whole story.” 

At the mention of going to the mill the girls 
looked fearfully at each other, but Miss King was 
already standing up, and did not seem to think 
that there was any cause to be frightened, so they 
followed her without protest. On the way they 
hastily told her the part of their adventures that 
concerned the man: the story of the day that they 


302 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

had stumbled on the mill-room, with its tray of 
dishes from the kitchen, and then how the man 
had appeared in the library, and later in the tun¬ 
nel. 

Miss King said nothing at all during the nar¬ 
rative, except to ask them to repeat one or two 
statements, but her face grew harder and harder 
and her lips set firmly. 

Who do you suppose the man is? ’’ Joan asked 
as she finished the story. And how did he learn 
about the tunnel, and where did he ever get hold 
of a letter you have never seen, although it is 
written to you? 

I can see one explanation,” Miss King said 
harshly. “ But wait until I see the man.” 

By this time they were at the mill, and Miss 
King walked boldly in, with Joan and Mary Alice 
close behind her. The girls, remembering their 
other experiences in the old building, were tiptoe¬ 
ing, but Miss King^s footsteps rang out clearly in 
the silence. She went firmly up the old stairs, 
only pausing for a moment while Mary Alice 
pointed out the new board that had been put in. 

When they reached the second floor the girls 
peered fearfully about, but everything was just 
as it always had been. The door into the walled- 


LAST OF THE MAN IN MILL 303 

off room was closed, but Miss King did not hesi¬ 
tate as she walked over and turned the knob. 

It was locked! For a minute she looked rather 
startled, as if for the first time she realized that 
the story she had just heard was a reality. She 
recovered herself quickly and rattled the knob 
authoritatively. 

“ Who is inside? she asked. Open this 
door! ” 

There was no answer, but Joan thought that 
she could hear a stealthy movement. Miss King 
spoke once more, and this time, v/hen she re¬ 
ceived no reply, she put her shoulder against the 
door and pushed. The whole flimsy partition 
shook, but the door held until the girls crowded 
around her and pushed, too. Then it gave way 
with a quick breaking, and they were catapulted 
into the room. 

Joan went with so much force that she nearly 
fell against Mrs. Oldham, who was sitting on the 
edge of the bed with her head in her hands. As 
Joan straightened up she saw that the small 
window was open, and that a rope tied to the 
bed hung out of it. She ran to the window and 
looked out, but there was nothing to be seen ex¬ 
cept the end of the rope swaying in the breeze. 


304 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Miss King was the first to speak. Mrs. Old¬ 
ham/^ she cried, her swift eyes surveying the 
room, “ what are you doing here, and who is liv¬ 
ing in this room? 

Mrs. Oldham did not raise her head. Her face 
was still buried in her hands, and her whole at¬ 
titude was one of resignation. 

Answer me,” Miss King commanded. 

“ Arthur,” Mrs. Oldham half whispered. 

I guessed as much when I heard the girls^ 

story.” Miss King’s voice was severe. “ You re- 

\ 

member, do you not, Mrs. Oldham, that when I 
took you back as housekeeper it was with the 
understanding that you were to have no commu¬ 
nication with Arthur.” 

Mrs. Oldham raised her head and darted a 
quick look at Miss King. 

But, Miss King,” she whined a little, it was 
a long time ago that you sent me and Arthur 
away because you caught him stealing one of your 
horses and selling her. And—and I remember 
that you said, when you finally took me back, that 
I wasn’t to have anything more to do with him. 
But that was a long time ago, and I thought by 
now that you wouldn’t be so strict. Besides, I 
thought you guessed that the reason I always in- 



She saw that the small window was open, and that a 

ROPE TIED TO THE BED HUNG OUT OF IT. —FdCJC 303 . 







■ r * 

. f- 


i , r 






^ t - ,* » , • ■ 

^ - i,' t ■ .•/> ■ ."■; '■■ V ■' ' y 


vii ;, 

.A* » 






1* 



-> - 


* ^ * 


' w "-t 


'' . ’ ' ■ < '■ 





% M , 


i‘ ■"= ' 3 


; 


- ‘ ^ 


!. , 


1 - v^.' 

^ •■ — fV 




*v‘ i 



7V 







" ' ”■ —it f 

2^* • I 


S 

dvr.vfiJ 




* .' ■-•,■'^7 j-ri 

. - '*•*■ . .’ * ;,-W li ■' ->51 . - V. • 

' ' ' •)!■ 'i. * • •-.' '.f' -■ •-' 


f- ■ - ; ' ^ I -L * S'* -< ■- 




*. i« 


■■ '. .. 


- 1 




LAST OF THE MAN IN MILL 305 

sisted on going to the mail-box for the mail was 
that I might hear from him once in a while; and 
I thought when you agreed that it was not only 
because you didn’t like such fussy little errands, 
but because you were willing for me to get a let¬ 
ter from him once in a while without your know¬ 
ing it.” Mrs. Oldham did not look at Miss King 
as she spoke, and hurried on as if she were afraid 
of being interrupted or questioned. 

Arthur has been out West since you sent him 
away from here, promoting, promoting—well, just 
promoting, I guess. But not long ago his part¬ 
ner played him false, and involved him in some 
affairs which made it necessary for him to clear 
out for a while. He was out of money, and it was 
just natural for him to come to his mother for 
help. We figured that he could live in the mill a 
while without any one tracing him, and then, 
when the investigation out West quieted down, 
he could leave again. He wasn’t going to bother 
any one, and I didn’t think it was any harm for 
him to stay in the old mill; and there wouldn’t 
have been any, and you wouldn’t have known 
anything about it, if it hadn’t been for these girls 
prowling around where they don’t belong,” Mrs. 
Oldham finished defiantly. 


306 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

Why, Mrs. Oldham,'' Mary Alice spoke an¬ 
grily, “ we didn't do any more prowling around 
where we didn't belong than your son did. 
We-" 

But the housekeeper scowled at the girls and 
interrupted hastily, speaking to Miss King and 
ignoring Mary Alice's words. Arthur has gone 
now. He was just ready to go when you knocked 
on the door. I couldn't get him to stay and face 
you, so I helped him out of the window." She 
gestured towards the rope and then continued: 
^^And—and I might as well tell you that I’m 
leaving, too. I've decided that I won't stay any 
place where I can't see my son. My sister will 
never be well enough to do her own housework, 
the doctor says, and I'm going to live with her. 
I’ve saved most of my wages,—what I haven't 
sent to Arthur,—and I don't need to work any 
longer." 

When Miss King spoke, it was as if she had 
not heard the last of Mrs. Oldham's words at all. 

“ It occurred to me at the time, when you in¬ 
sisted on going for the mail, that you were prob¬ 
ably hearing from Arthur. I overlooked it, for 
I didn't mind; it was only natural that you should 
care for him, even though he is a thief." Miss 



LAST OF THE MAN IN MILL 307 

King’s voice was cold and sharp as she moved 
until she was directly in front of Mrs. Oldham. 
“ Now I have cause to doubt that your daily trips 
to the mail-box were to get your letters from 
Arthur before I should see them. I think that you 
are still lying to me, Mrs. Oldham. Answer me 
again. Is that the only reason you have been 
going for the mail all these years? 

Mrs. Oldham darted a glance at Joan through 
narrowed eyes. “ What have these nosing girls 
been telling you? ” she sulked. 

They have told me what I should have known 
long ago,’’ Miss King said. You intercepted 
and kept this letter Consuelo Galdos wrote to 
me! ” And she whipped the page in Mrs. Old¬ 
ham’s face. 

The housekeeper shrank back. For a minute 
Joan thought she was going to deny it; then she 
suddenly burst into tears. 

Yes, yes,” she sobbed. I got it and kept it, 
Miss King, but I was so tempted! ” 

Miss King stood erect and stern before Mrs. 
Oldham. Her voice did not lose one bit of its 
coldness as she said, “You were tempted, Mrs. 
Oldham? ” 

“Yes, yes. You remember that it was right 


308 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


after Miss Consuelo ran away when you took me 
back. You were angry with her, and you had 
your old will destroyed and made a new one in 
which you left all the property to me,—that is, 
all but the land you had deeded to her—because 
you had no one else, and because I had been a 
faithful nurse to your father in his last illness.^^ 
Miss King nodded her head sadly. Yes, my 
father had asked me to take care of you, and I 
had always regretted that I sent you away when 
Arthur stole from me.” 

Well, the very day that you told me about 
the will this letter came from Consuelo. I car¬ 
ried it around for two days, and then, one day, 
I steamed it open and read it. Even then I did 
not mean to keep it; I intended to seal it up and 
give it to you. But I knew as soon as I read the 
letter and discovered that Miss Consuelo had not 
taken the deed to the pasture-lands, as you 
thought she had, that you would forgive her and 
change your will again. 

Then, while I had this letter open on my 
dresser, thinking how unjust it was for you to 
raise my hopes of getting the property, I acci¬ 
dentally turned over a bottle of medicine on it. 
I was scared, then. I knew that if I sealed it 


LAST OF THE MAN IN MILL 309 

up, as I had intended to do, and gave it to you, 
you would know that I had opened it. I grew 
frantic. I tried to take off the stains, and ruined 
the pages entirely. ‘The one you have—the 
last page—^was underneath, and did not have 
many stains on it. Finally I grew so worried and 
confused that I burned the other sheets and hid 
this one in the secret drawer of Mr. Phihs desk. 
I thought that it would be safe there, because I 
knew you didnff know anything about the secret 
drawers. Mr. Phil told me about them one night 
when he was ill and delirious. He had me get a 
letter from one of the drawers and destroy it. 
The letter he said proved that the desk was not 

a real Chip—Chipper- 

Chippendale,’^ Mary Alice contributed ex¬ 
citedly. 

“ Yes, that’s it. Well, it was a letter from a 
famous furniture man in England, and it said 
that the desk was not a real Chip—Chipperdale 
because of the way the very secret drawers 
opened. You know how much Mr. Phil thought 
of his furniture, and that night, when he was 
delirious, he decided that he didn’t want people 
to know that the desk wasn’t genuine. Anyway, 
he made me promise not to tell you, and I didn’t. 




310 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

In fact, I almost forgot about the secret drawers^ 
until I was trying to think of some place to hide 
the page of Consuelo’s letter. Even then, Miss 
King, I did not think of keeping anything in par¬ 
ticular from you. I thought Consuelo would 
write again and tell you about the deed, and you 
would merely think the first letter had been lost 
in the mails.’’ 

She was as proud as I,” Miss King murmured. 
It was like her not to write again.” 

As I was saying,” Mrs. Oldham went on, evi¬ 
dently relieved to be telling a secret that she had 
had on her mind and conscience for many years, 
days passed, and no letters came from Con¬ 
suelo and Chile. Finally I began to think that 
none would ever come, and that I might inherit 
this ranch after all, and have it to leave to Ar¬ 
thur. It was not so much for myself. Miss King,” 
Mrs. Oldham pleaded, that I wanted your prop¬ 
erty, but I thought if I could have it for him, he 
would come away from his bad associations and 
settle down here and go straight. He was always 
interested in this old place, and used to write me 
long accounts of what we would do with it if we 
ever got the land. So when Miss Consuelo didn’t 
write any more, I began to look for the deed, for 


LAST OF THE MAN IN MILL 311 

I knew that if you ever found it, you would take 
steps to get in communication with her. But I 
could never find it. I didn’t know about the tun¬ 
nel then, and I couldn’t understand the directions 
on the page of the letter I had saved.” 

You and Arthur had been sent away when 
Consuelo found the tunnel. She discovered it 
when she was playing about the mill, and consid¬ 
ered it a great secret. She never told me of her 
discovery until she lost her dolly, and then I 
forbade her going there for fear it might cave in 
some time.” 

But it’s funny Mr. Phil never mentioned the 
tunnel, or that none of the neighbors knew about 
it.” 

We never told any one about the tunnel,” 
Miss King explained sadly. It was sort of a 
family secret, because knowledge of it would only 
have served to convince the people who knew the 
story of my grandfather that he was insane.” 
Miss King paused and then continued slowly: 

Evidently the night—the night that Consuelo 
ran away, it was through the tunnel, for fear some 
one would see her going to the mill. A few days 
after she had gone I climbed up the fireplace 
chimney and fastened some boards across the 


312 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


other half of the passage and considered the tun¬ 
nel closed/’ 

Miss King seemed to have forgotten her anger, 
and she and Mrs. Oldham were talking quietly 
and calmly to each other, both absorbed in the 
unravelling of the story. 

Mrs. Oldham nodded her head at this explana¬ 
tion and went on: The way I found out about 
the tunnel was through Arthur. He was looking 
around the mill the first day he came, and found 
the entrance to it on that end, and then one night 
we pulled down the boards in the fireplace, so that 
he could have a way to come to the kitchen for 
food. I had been taking his food to him on a 
tray after night.” 

‘‘ Those were the noises we heard the first night 
I came,” Joan whispered to Mary Alice. 

You were right,” Mary Alice whispered back, 
when you said that they sounded like some one 
pulling nails out of things! ” 

Mrs. Oldham paid no attention to the girls, 
but continued her story to Miss King. To go 
back,” she said, “ three or four years passed after 
I hid the letter in the secret drawer, and there 
was no word from Consuelo and the deed was 
never found. I began to feel safe, and then one 


LAST OF THE MAN IN MILL 313 

day I went to the mail-box and drew out—oh, 
how well I remember that day! I had not 
thought of my secret for a long time, and I 
reached carelessly into the box and drew out the 
papers and a letter. What a terrible sensation of 
coldness I felt when I glanced down and saw a 
black-bordered envelope with a foreign postmark 
I knew only too well! 

Black-bordered? ” whispered Miss King. 

Yes,’’ Mrs. Oldham spoke sympathetically. 

There were only a few words in the letter—it 
was from her husband—and he said that Consuelo 
had died of a fever, and had asked him to send 
you a picture of her little girl, Consuelo May.” 

Tears were running down Miss King’s cheeks, 
but she did not wipe them away. She seemed 
to have forgotten Mrs. Oldham and Joan and 
Mary Alice, and to be talking to the girl she had 
known and loved so many years before. ‘‘ Con¬ 
suelo, my dear,” she murmured brokenly, I—I 
didn’t write to you, I didn’t answer your letter; 
you must have thought that I hated you, but you 
had forgiven me. I know you had, Consuelo. It 
is like a wordless message of forgiveness, your 
naming your baby girl after me—May—Consuelo 
May.” 


314 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


In the silence that followed Joan thought of 
the picture in her pocket, and drew it out and 
slipped it into Miss King’s hand. Miss King did 
not notice her, but stared and stared at the pic¬ 
ture. “ I have felt for years, Consuelo, that you 
were dead,” she whispered. But you live again 
in your baby; her eyes, her smile, her black curls 
are all yours.” 

Yes, that’s the picture he sent,” nodded Mrs. 
Oldham. “ I burned the letter, but somehow I 
couldn’t bring myself to burn that little picture. 
It seemed that if I was found out some time, you 
might forgive me for the other things, but not for 
burning that little picture ; so I wrapped it up and 
hid it also in the desk. 

‘‘And then when Arthur found the tunnel I re¬ 
membered the directions in the first letter and 
got them for him. He scolded me for leaving the 
things in the desk, and said to get the picture and 
he would destroy it. But the girls were here by 
then, and with so many people around I had a 
little trouble getting it-” 

“ She never suspected that we were trying to 
keep her from getting in the desk,” whispered 
Mary Alice, and Joan nodded assent. 

“Arthur began to search the tunnel for the 



LAST OF THE MAN IN MILL 315 

deed in the jewel-case/’ Mrs. Oldham continued. 
“ You see, he was pretty scared over his last 
fracas, and he was thinking about getting this 
place and living straight, and he wanted to find 
the deed and destroy it, so that there would be 
no chance of its being found some day and mak¬ 
ing you hunt up Consuelo May. He had just 
started to search the tunnel when the girls dis¬ 
covered him. Later, from the looks of the place 
they had been, he decided that they had found the 
jewel-case. He was searching their rooms this 
afternoon when one of them heard him, and as 
they had already had a glimpse of him, we de¬ 
cided that he had better leave before you caught 
him here. He^s gone away now for good. You 
won’t tell on him' will you. Miss King? ” 

No, no,” Miss King said sadly. I don^t 
know what he has been doing; I don’t know any-^ 
thing to tell, or any one to tell.” 

^^And—and me? ” 

I forgive you, Mrs. Oldham, as I can only 
hope that Consuelo has long since forgiven me.” 
Miss King turned slowly towards the door. I’ll 
go back to the house and make out a check for 
this month’s wages and for a month in advance, 
and leave it on the kitchen-table.” 


316 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


“ I’m all packed to go/’ Mrs. Oldham said 
stoically, and I have telephoned for my brother 
to meet me at the end of the lane. I’ll send for 
my trunk to-morrow.” 

Still holding the little picture of Consuelo May 
tenderly in her hands, Miss King turned and left 
the room, and the girls heard her walk slowly 
down the stairs. They hastened to follow her, 
after a last glimpse at Mrs. Oldham sitting de¬ 
jectedly on the bed while with one hand she 
mechanically thrust a pin into her hair. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


MY AUNTIE MAY 

Mary Alice and Joan silently followed Miss 
King back to the house, and walked mechanically 
through the kitchen, through the dining-room, 
and into the library. Miss King was sitting at 
the desk, blotting a check. As they came in she 
smiled wanly at them. 

‘‘ Will you, please,” she asked, holding it out 
to Mary Alice, “ put this check on the kitchen- 
table? ” 

Mary Alice took the check and left the room. 
Joan stood beside Miss King and found herself 
staring in fascination at the little uncracked 
panel. Without thinking she spoke: “ This isnT 
the same desk.” 

Miss King looked at her in surprise. So you 
have discovered that, too? ” she asked slowly. 

‘‘ Oh, you knew it then? ” Joan cried, disap¬ 
pointed that, after all. Miss King was going to 
be connected with some of the seemingly under¬ 
hand happenings in the house. 

Of course, I knew,” Miss King laughed a lit- 

317 


318 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 


tie, shortly. '' It was my desk; I should know 
where it is.’^ 

Joan was inexpressibly hurt by her answer. 
She turned abruptly and left the room, feeling 
that, after all, she and Miss King were never to 
be friends and comrades. 

When she was half-way up the stairs Miss King 
came out of the library and ran to the foot of the 
stairs. 

“ Oh, Joan, Joan dear,’^ she begged, please 
wait for me. I can’t bear to have you go away 
misunderstanding me.” 

She hurried up the stairs to Joan’s side, took 
her hand, and led her into her room. She mo¬ 
tioned her to a footstool and sat down in the low 
rocker. 

After a few minutes Miss King began slowly. 

Joan, I do want you to love me, now—now more 
than ever. My pride and coldness and selfish¬ 
ness have deprived me of friendships, just as they 
took Consuelo away from me twenty years ago. 
And a minute ago I was sacrificing your friend¬ 
ship on the same altar. But it mustn’t be, Joan. 
Maybe, though, I’ve grown so grim and forbidding 
that you can never make a real friend and confi¬ 
dant of me-” 



“ MY AUNTIE MAY 319 

“You are my friend/' Joan protested, feeling 
very much embarrassed. 

“ But not the kind I want to be,” Miss King 
went on, sadly. “ I want to be a dear, dear friend 
and a real comrade, and share all your joys and 
sorrows, and help you when you need help, and 
comfort you when you are homesick. But as it 
is, you don't even find it easy to call me ‘ Auntie 
May.''' 

Joan started to speak, but Miss King went on. 

“ No, don't deny it. I have watched your face, 
and heard the inflection in your voice. Let's talk 
real truths now, Joan, and maybe we can find our 
friendship when we fully understand each other. 

“You see, Joan, when you first came I was 
glad to have you, for I was very, very lonely, and 
I was glad to help your mother in her troubles, 
but I kept telling myself that I mustn't learn to 
love you. You see, I was afraid of love, because 
once I had loved one girl so very much that I 
never recovered from what I thought then was her 
ungratefulness. But when you came, you were 
so bright and cheerful that I found myself liking 

y' 

you from the very first. At the same time, 
though, having you around reminded me so much 
of the first young girl I had had here, that at 


( 


320 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

times I was harsh and brusque. And generally, 
Joan, when I was coldest to you, I was really the 
unhappiest down in my heart. And all the while 
that I was telling myself that I mustn^t like you 
too much, I was wanting you to like me very 
much,' and was trying to win your love. I found 

that I wasn^t doing it- ” 

** 1 didn’t understand,” Joan pleaded. When 
you would be suddenly cold and abrupt I thought 
you didn’t want me here, and that you had just 
taken me because of Mother.” 

“ How unhappy I must have made you, Joan. 
But I had been alone for so long that I didn’t 
know how to be nice to a little girl, and I tried to 

help my cause by giving you things-” 

‘‘The white dress-” Joan cried, hurt to 

think it had been, after all, a sort of bribe. “And 

the semester of school-” 

“ Please, Joan,” Miss. King begged, “ don’t 
think so fast. It isn’t as if I didn’t want to give 
them to you. I did; I loved doing it. But I can 
see now that if I had taken you into my confi¬ 
dence and told you that I couldn’t afford to give 
them to you, and let you help me—in other words, 
if I had conquered my pride—it would have saved 
a great deal. I was trying to do that when I got 







MY AUNTIE MAY^^ 


321 


out Consuelo’s wedding-dress. I thought maybe 
we could have a chummy time fixing it over-” 

“ I acted terribly over the dress/’ Joan cried. 
‘‘ I have been so miserable and ashamed about 
it ever since.” 

The fault was mine. I didn’t realize that 
dresses and styles and materials had changed so 
much, and when I got out the dress it revived so 
many memories that I grew cold again. Then, 
too, my pride was hurt because I was too poor 
to give you the sort of dress you needed, and I 
thought maybe you were despising me for sug¬ 
gesting that we make over the impossible wed¬ 
ding-dress -” 

Oh, Miss King,” Joan exclaimed, “ you say 
that you were too poor to buy me a dress, but I 
—I thought you were rich. And I let you buy 
me that expensive white dress. I’ll—I’ll never 

forgive myself, but you see I didn’t know-” 

Joan was nearly crying. 

“ Don’t cry, Joan dear. It was very natural 
for you to think that I had plenty of money. I 
did have when your mother knew me. At my 
father’s death I inherited this ranch, but only 
a small amount of money. But Scared Acres was 
extensive then, and it brought me a large income. 





322 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

1 went on purchasing cattle and fattening them 
for market on our pastures. For a time I pros¬ 
pered; then a change came. 

“ A great factor in the cattle business, as you 
may not know, is getting the cattle to market at 
the right time. If you don^t get a good market, 
you sometimes do not even make expenses, par¬ 
ticularly if you have had a year of bad crops and 
have been forced to buy feed. Naturally, being 
a woman, I did not lounge around the hotel lobby 
in Fame where the cattlemen collected and talked 
and exchanged opinions and news on the market. 

“ One of them though, a neighbor of mine, had 
been advising me when to ship. Then one year 
he tried to buy my pasture-land, and when I 
would not sell it- No, I won^t finish that sen¬ 

tence. But, anyway, there were some bad drouths 
and the corn was a failure, and when I shipped I 
struck a slump in the market and lost money 
heavily. That left me without funds to buy cat¬ 
tle, and I would not mortgage the pasture to buy 
them for fear I would fail again and lose Consu- 
elo’s land. For, Jean, although the deed I had 
given her had never been recorded—I was going 
to have it recorded in her new name after the 
wedding—and the pasture-land was still mine 



MY AUNTIE MAY*^ 


323 


legally, I considered that it was really Consuelo’s, 
and that I was only keeping it for her. Well, I 
had to give up the cattle business, and with it, 
of course, went my income. I rented the pasture 
to the neighbor, and that rent is all I have had 
to live on for many years now.” 

‘^What a thrilling story,” Joan whispered, 
your struggle, alone, to take care of the ranch.” 

Perhaps. I seem to remember only the lone¬ 
liness and the worry, and a sort of ingrowing re¬ 
sentment that everything seemed to go wrong. I 
might have had sympathy and help, I suppose, 
but I was proud, and I didn’t let any one know 
how bad my affairs had grown. My banker is the 
only person that I have told until now, but the 
people around here have probably guessed some 
of it. However, I never lived lavishly after Con- 
suelo left, and I let them understand that my 
renting the land just meant that I was retiring 
from active farming.” 

If I could only have known,” Joan cried, I 
would never have let you buy me an expensive 
dress.” 

‘^All I have been telling you has only been a 
prelude to this: I couldn’t afford the dress, but 
I found it impossible to be frank with you and 


324 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

say so. Besides, I wanted you to have it, and 
what I would not do for myself, I took delight 
in doing for you. Did you by any chance, that 
night after the episode of the white-satin frock, 
hear some strange noises? ” 

Steps coming down the stairway,’’ Joan ex¬ 
claimed, and a crash? ” That was the night she 
and Mary Alice had sat on the back stairs trying 
to discover the opening of the tunnel, and had 
heard some one sneaking down the front stairs. 

Miss King smiled. “A crash? It must have 
sounded like that. Well, Uncle Ben and I were 
carrying an old chest down from my room. Oh, 
how carefully we crept along! ” Miss King 
laughed softly. “ I can see Uncle Ben yet! He 
had taken off his flappy old shoes, so that he 
could be as quiet as possible. He had the front 
end of the chest, and his shapeless stockinged 
feet would wave around uncertainly as he felt for 
the next step of the stairs. He couldn’t bend 
over to see the steps, and when he touched the 
carpet of the hall floor he was startled,—the stairs 
are uncarpeted, you know,—made an extra little 
jerk, and some way pulled me forward, so that 
we made a heap in the hall. Uncle Ben, the chest, 
and I. We were aghast at the noise we had made. 


AUNTIE MAY^^ 


325 


and just sat there for a long time, waiting to hear 
a movement in your rooms. Finally we gathered 
our courage and tiptoed into the music-room with 
the chest and left it with its twin. There were 
two of the chests just alike; one had been in my 
room for a long time, and the other had stood in 
the music-room for years- ” 

“ And had kept the gray-green carpet from fad¬ 
ing,’^ Joan cried. 

“ Why, yes, there was a place in the carpet 
where the chest had stood. And since at that 
time I didn’t want you to know that I was selling 
my furniture, I covered up the spot with a rug 
from the hall the next morning when I opened 
the music-room for you and Mary Alice. But 
that night I just left the chest there and went 
on up-stairs while Uncle Ben waited for the men 
to come for them.” 

‘‘ Mary Alice and I saw them come—the men, 
with the flash-lights! But still I hardly under¬ 
stand how your twin chests and my white dress 
are connected? ” 

“ No? Well, some of the furniture in this house 
is very old, and I have had many chances to sell 
it. Mr. Hays, an antique collector in Fame and 
a very good friend of mine, has long coveted some 




/ 


326 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES 

pieces I have. So when I needed money I de¬ 
cided to part with the twin chests. That morn¬ 
ing I called him over the telephone, and told 
him that if he would bring his truck to the en¬ 
trance of the lane he could have the chests. I 
told him to come at midnight because I was too 
proud to let the neighbors know that I was selling 
my furniture, and also because I did not want 
you to know, for fear you might refuse to take 
the dress.” 

^^And you sold your twin chests to buy me a 
dress,” Joan cried, slipping her hand into Miss 
King^s. 

‘‘ Yes. And I loved doing it. The joy of un¬ 
selfish giving, Joan, is the greatest joy of all. 
Well, as I was telling you, the next morning when 
I went in to get my money from Mr. Hays and 
buy your dress, he repeated his offer for the book¬ 
case-secretary. I knew immediately that I had 
found a way to pay for your college tuition many 
times over, and I decided to sell the desk. That 
same night he came for it. Did you hear us then, 
too? ” 

No. That is the day we explored the tunnel 
and we were very sleepy-” 

^‘And we were very quiet. Besides, the carpets 



MY A UNTIE MA Y 327 

down-stairs are heavy, and I didn’t need Uncle 
Ben’s help.” 

“ But I don’t understand the desk that is there 
now.” 

“ Oh, that! Mr. Hays tried many years ago 
to buy the original desk from my father. He, of 
course, refused to part with it, but let Mr. Hays 
have a copy of it made for his own house. When 
I sold him the real desk, he brought out his copy 
for me.” 

And that is the night we put the jewel-case 
in the old desk, and of course the next morning 
could not find it in the copy.” 

'^Yes. When Mr. Hays got home, he was 
naturally gloating over his acquisition and in¬ 
specting it, and immediately found the jewel-case. 
He sent it to me through the mail, and that was 
the package I got this morning.” 

Oh, Miss King,—I mean Auntie May, for I’m 
never going to say ^ Miss King ’ again—every¬ 
thing has been so mixed up. And I’ve been so 
wrong about it all because I didn’t under¬ 
stand -” 

‘‘We understand now, though,” Miss King 
cried. “And it is all due to you girls that I have 
found out the truth about Consuelo. I can never, 




328 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES. 

never thank you enough for that, Joan/’ Miss 
King paused for a few minutes and then con¬ 
tinued, Let’s see, you have been here for five 
days, so we have only lost five days of being 
friends, and we have five months to make up for 
it.” 

Let’s start making up for it right now,” Joan 
said shyly, and put her arm around Miss King, 
and Miss King leaned down and kissed her, and 
they smiled at each other understanding^. 

You run down and get Mary Alice and set 
out whatever you can find for luncheon,” Miss 
King exclaimed happily. I’ll be down in a few 
minutes, and then after luncheon we will go to 
Fame for the new curtains and everything else 
we need for the music-room, and Scared Acres 
will live again! ” 

Once in the kitchen, Joan told Mary Alice the 
story of the furniture, and they chattered happily 
as they found baked ham and fresh bread and a 
part of a cake for luncheon. They cut too many 
slices of everything, but in the joy of being rid 
of strange visitors and mysterious noises and un¬ 
pleasant thoughts, they felt suddenly ravenous. 

Just as everything was ready, Miss King came 
into the kitchen. And what a changed Miss 


MY AUNTIE MAY^^ 


329 


King! Her hair was pulled softly around her 
face, her cheeks were pink with excitement, and 
her plain lavender dress looked charming with 
crisp organdie collar and cuffs and a soft white 
tie. 

Oh, girls, girls,” she cried, utterly oblivious of 
two bright little tears that crept down her cheeks, 
“ it does seem that this is to be a momentous day 
in my life. I—I—^when I got my mail this morn¬ 
ing I opened the package containing the jewel- 
case first, and did not look at anything else. And 
now, what do you think IVe discovered in this 
little white letter from California? Oh, you can 
never guess. ICs from Consuelo May! ” 

The little girl of the picture! ” Joan exclaimed 
joyously. 

Consuelo’s daughter! ” echoed Mary Alice. 

“ Yes, Consuelo’s daughter. But she isn’t a 
little girl any more. She’s—she’s as old as you 
are. She’s about the same age her mother was 
when I last saw her.” 

^^And in California? ” 

^^Yes. She is visiting her father’s relatives. 
And she writes that her mother had always 
planned for her to go to Mrs. Haddon’s School 
because it was my school; so now that she is 


330 THE SECRET OF SCARED ACRES^ 


ready, her father is sending her there. And we 
are going to write to her and tell her that she 
must—simply must—stop at Scared Acres on her 
way east.’’ 

To think that we shall really see her! ” Mary 
Alice exclaimed, happily. 

‘^And she is going to Mrs. Haddon’s School! ” 
cried Joan. I’ll write to every one of my girl 
friends that she is coming, and they will take 
care of her. We don’t want her to be lonesome, 
even the very first day.” 

“ That’s sweet, Joan.” 

“ But I’ll challenge her to learn as much the 
first semester at Mrs. Haddon’s School as I shall 
learn here in Fame College with my Auntie 
May! ” Joan finished, slipping her arm around 
Miss King and smihng happily at the real friend 
she had just found. 


THE END 









4 




t 

I 


r 

i 

I 


* 


I 






\ 



1 


s 


( 


r 

j 

t 







SE.P 3 0 ^927 


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



0DD54aTTtiD3 






















































































































